Heart of Nobody
by quinnarrow
Summary: It's been years since the last Angel of Heaven fell to the demons. Humanity has struggled without their powerful allies and chaos is slowly devouring the world. But unbenounced to them, one angel remains and a single human stumbles upon him.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes: ****This is my first big story for the Supernatural fandom. Once I got the idea, I couldn't get it out of my head so here we are! Please review and let me know what you think!**

**You can find me on Tumblr under the name quinnarrow. Feel free to send me a message.**

**Enjoy :)**

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**Prologue**

Humanity has always been cursed. Cursed with despair and hardship. Cursed with a will to live and love. But the heaviest of humanities burdens is the curse of knowledge. Knowledge of what lurks in the dark. Knowledge something with claws or fangs is patiently waiting for a victim to saunter by.

But in this world, knowledge is power. Lords of the lands use what they know to protect those within the walls of their keeps; some better than others. Stories and lore are passed down through generations of fighting and survival. That is how humanity has prospered. How they've been able to fight back against the chaos monsters bestow for the right to simply live.

But one thing has threatened that right more than any other creature. They come in the form of pure black smoke. Once human souls corrupted by centuries of torture in the fires of Hell until darkness and hate overpower light and love. Until they were beyond saving. Until they ceased to be human. So many have fallen to the demons. Their bodies no longer theirs to control as pandemonium spreads to every corner of the Earth.

But humanity has never been alone in this battle. Ancient warriors of Heaven, nearly as old as creation itself, have kept the demons from ravaging their father's work completely. All without being seen. Needing permission to walk among their charges in secret, the angels fight for humankind and all they have to offer.

The clashes of Heaven and Hell are the stories told to children all knowing the small truths they hold. Believing the world stood a chance so long the angels fought for them. Even if there were innocent casualties along the way.

But it was that unfounded faith and devotion that blinded everyone. No one noticed the shadows darkening. The stars peppering the sky becoming dimmer. The ominous sense of doom growing so slowly, not a single soul, human nor creature, felt its strength multiplying.

Only when it was too late the absence of hope and happiness become apparent

Only when all living beings witnessed a long foretold prophesy come into fruition. The flash of pure white light covering the night sky caused most to shield their eyes in protection. It lasted mere seconds, but the world would be forever changed. Gazes were drawn to the Heavens once more as a hot streak of light raced across the stars falling, falling, falling ever closer to the ground before disappearing completely. In that moment, all was clear.

The last angel of Heaven had fallen to the demons.

Panic brewed as kings and lords made feeble attempts to assure their people not all was lost; that humanity was not doomed to Hell on Earth. But their words could only do so much. It wasn't long before reports of demon attacks and large scale possessions were sent to any who listened. Entire keeps found abandoned with only the smell of sulfur left behind.

At first humanity struggled. But as time progressed, years of experience and ancient lore allowed people to fight back and to carry on the fight angels had died for. But a human was no angel. Even with various blades to killed demons, the black eyes of the dammed still marched forward gathering territory and ravaging random places as if in search of something. Rumor quickly spread they were scouring for a weapon that would end the war. Little human effort was put into searching for the fabled weapon since survival was the priority.

But no matter how far fetched the rumors, they sparked hope that was lost with the fall of the last angel. It gave something for people to hold onto in times of dire need. It gave them something to believe in again; that humanity will one day be saved.


	2. Devils Without Borders

**Author's Notes: Hello people! I'm SUPER excited to continue this story. Sorry it took so long to really get started but things have been crazy. I hope you enjoy this story and I can't wait to hear from you guys. ****Please review and let me know what you think!****  
**

**You can find me on Tumblr under the name quinnarrow. Feel free to send me a message.**

**Enjoy :)**

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**Chapter 1: Devils Without Borders**

Two months. That's how long the battle has continued. Two months of daily bloodshed with neither side willing to yield and neither making much progress. Encampments were placed on the far sides of the fields of Thindol Valley where the border lies and many had fallen.

The armies of the demons had been marching east for weeks gathering as much territory and resources as they can with little opposition along the way. That is until Lord Winchester called upon his banners to halt the demon's trek through the Rendrasan Mountains and defend their lands. There's no better place defended against the creatures of the night than the Eastlands. The knowledge passed down by the Winchester Family is unparalleled to any other allowing its people to live in relative safety for hundreds of years. Even the king requested Lord Winchester's assistance in placing protection around the capital.

But protection against demons is one thing; fighting them in an all-out battle is a whole other tale. A lessen the son of Lord John Winchester learned quickly.

The sun was dipping below the mountains casting the valley in shadows and Dean almost felt relieved. His muscles were aching from the strain of fighting too long; not all day but a decent amount. His armor was scratched and dented in many places and his helmet was lost a while ago. His sword hadn't fared much better, but the blood of enemies covered the imperfections. But wave of demons kept coming no matter how many meatsuits were destroyed.

"You doin' alright, Sir?"

Dean glanced to his left towards one of his foot soldiers, Garth. He looked as worn out at Dean felt but continued to fight on.

"I'm fine," he grunted letting the 'Sir' slide. Despite his higher ranking, Dean hated being called that. "Keep your eyes peeled. The day's almost over."

Garth nodded and ran off. Dean risked another moment to assess the battlefield. His brother was always better at this sort of thing, but he was back at the encampment safe and sound. The majority of the soldiers had shifted to the northern side of the valley, but other pockets occupied other areas; so much for the organized strategy. He also silently cursed for letting himself stray so far from everyone else. But things could be worse. A mentality to never give up is instilled in all members of the Winchester soldiers early on. It's definitely paid off by the looks of things. Many of the men were still standing.

Dean turned back ready to run towards his men when a force knocked him to the side. Sword flying out of hand, Dean sprawled out on his back as a knee instantly pressed into his breastplate. He blinked as the face of the demon came into focus. Or rather the face of the possessed soldier from his own ranks. He couldn't remember his name. Pure black eyes completed the cruel smirk twisting the man's features.

Without a word, the demon raised a dagger, similar to the one Dean himself carries, above his head with both hands. Time slowed as the weapon was swiftly brought downwards. Only years of training and natural instincts prevented the Winchester from an instant death. Dean threw both hands above his head intercepting the motion. The tip of the blade stopped mere inches from his face. The demon pressed down with his full body sliding the blade ever closer to his target's features. Dean struggled. His arms strained under the weight. He knew he couldn't last long like this. He needed a plan. He needed something to push the demon off. He needed…

The weight of the body above him suddenly vanished. Darkening skies filled his vision. Dean was so stunned he lied on the ground, in the middle of the battle, for a moment. Weariness crept into his bones, body begging for rest. But he couldn't, not yet.

The swordsman scurried to his feet, mind instantly registering just how he was saved. The demon was currently on his knees struggling to get out of another man's choke hold. But for all the struggles, the mystery man held fast barely moving. It's not easy going up against the strength of a demon, so Dean was thoroughly impressed. The pair's backs were to him so the only thing Dean could make out of his rescuer was hair black as ink and dirty armor indicating he belonged to the Mills Battalion. He seemed to be whispering in the demon's ear. Dean only caught a few Latin words recognizing an exorcism. It's hardly used in the heat of battle, but if someone could be saved from the monster inside, swords were always exchanged for words.

As the man spoke the last words, he released his hold and black smoke erupted from the soldier's mouth and disappeared back to Hell. The newly liberated body fell limp to the ground. Wordlessly, the man crouched down and wrapped the unconscious soldier's arm around his shoulders before standing once more. Finally the savior turned to Dean who was still stationary a few feet away.

Green met blue. The man's eyes put sapphires to shame as if God himself placed the sparkling waters of the Southern Seas into them. There was a sense of innocence yet unfathomable amounts of wisdom learnt through years of hardship. It's as if they looked straight into the soul.

Before Dean blinked out of his daze, the man took off towards the medical wagons located at the edge of the battlefield giving no indication of struggle with the extra body weight. Dean took a step to follow but stopped after realizing what he was doing. Shaking his head, the swordsman located his dropped sword ran back into the fray. But Dean could not, for the life of him, rid his mind of the soldier with the blue eyes.

* * *

People are confusing.

Other beings, such as wendigos or ghouls, have one basic instinct controlling all actions; self-preservation. The desire to live by any means necessary is what drives each and every one to maim and kill any threatening that goal. Eons of evolution and that is something that's never changed.

But humans… humans are different. While its true survival is important to them, the love they possess for each other is what sets them apart. Humanity is the only intelligent species on the planet that are willing to give their lives for the ones they care for. Even most angels never went that far. It's a trait Castiel has always admired in people. But there's more than that; more behaviors and beliefs that no matter how much he tried, Castiel struggled to understand them all.

But the hostility around him was painfully clear. The sour looks cast his direction wherever he roamed in the encampment are always easy to spot. Fellow soldiers thought of him as odd and Castiel has never blamed them. He was accepted into the Mills Battalion just before marching to the Thindol Valley. The process was slow with many questions from the Commander and various lieutenants about past actions and whereabouts constantly thrown his way which he somehow artfully dodged. It's not the first time he's done this since his failings of Heaven; since he, the last Angel of the Lord, was declared dead to the world. But his limited knowledge of human behavior had also led to unpleasant situations involving others in the battalion. So people kept their distance for the most part which suited the hiding angel just fine. Less people to notice anything else unusual.

Like right now for example.

Castiel peeled the tunic off his torso, armor already cleaned and discarded on the floor of the empty barracks. Everyone else was currently eating dinner before tending to evening duties. As an angel, Castiel didn't need to eat or sleep, but learnt to fake both fairly quickly. He was lucky tonight, getting back to the tents so late. The daily call to retreat from the field came shortly after depositing the newly un-possessed man on the medical cart at the edge of the battlefield. There was no reason to return back to his men, so he accompanied the man to the medical tent and helped tend to him.

The angel looked down and concentrated on the bruises peppering his skin from the day's battle feeling his grace hum underneath his skin; watching as the dark purples and blues shifted to pale yellow before disappearing completely within a matter of moments. Castiel considered his healing factor a blessing and a curse. He was thankful it allowed him to continue fighting, saving as many humans from the creatures of chaos as he can. But being in hiding prevented the warrior from sharing his gifts. Exorcism really was the only thing he could do with others around. There were many times a human life could have been saved with a single touch that the angel chose not to intervene. He'd lost count how many times he stood by watching a Reaper take souls to the afterlife.

"Novak."

He looked up at the sound of the name. It was the surname of the human Castiel has used as a vessel for many centuries. The human's soul had long since entered Heaven where his family awaited. Although Castiel still used his true name, keeping the man's memory alive by responding to the surname honored his sacrifice. Very few soldiers within the battalion itself actually knew his "first" name.

"Hello Oliver."

Oliver tilted his chin upwards showing his distaste. It was an odd gesture considering he was a good four inches shorter and the same rank. "Get decent. The Commander requests your presence."

Castiel nodded and replaced his tunic. Since the meeting was with the Commander, he took a moment to dress in his armor as well. Oliver waited impatiently but kept silent. After strapping the sword to his waist, Castiel followed Oliver out of the barracks twisting between tents and fires ringed with the laughing soldiers of the Mills Battalion. Their shift in mood as he walked by did not go unnoticed.

Castiel walked directly behind Oliver expecting to be led to the Commander's tent, but Oliver walked straight out of their section of the encampment. Each banner received a separate area of the encampment with theirs located on the northeastern edge; far from the more formidable forces. As the pair passed, many soldiers gave them odd looks, but let them be. It wasn't common for soldiers to cross into other banner's areas. But Castiel welcomed the change from looks of disgust.

Nerves began to take hold in Castiel's gut as he recognized their destination. Oliver offered no other reasons for coming here, so he suppressed the feelings just like his brethren had taught so long ago. He could handle anything thrown at him; good or bad. Worst case scenario, he'd simply disappear and start over at another far location. It wouldn't be the first time.

Oliver stepped aside from the entrance to the War Tent. "Good luck," he smirked revealing his true feelings about the situation. Both knew exactly who was inside.

Castiel took a quick deep breath before reaching out with a steady hand pulling back the tent flaps and stepped through. It's one of the largest structures second only to the medical tent. A few tables covered in papers and notes ringed the sides of the tent. A few chairs were scattered about leaving the middle of the floor unoccupied except for the three sets of boots waiting for him.

"My Lord," he greeted with a head bow. The first man is much taller than expected. Lord John Winchester was battle worn. Physically fit with years of wisdom painted in his dark eyes. His expression was unreadable. Castiel couldn't decipher whether being called here was a good thing or not.

He turned to the next man. "Sir." Commander Mills is a stout man. His polished, unscathed armor barely fit over the roundness of his stomach. Castiel is convinced the man's sword strapped to his waist has never seen the light of day. But that doesn't make him any less intimidating. He's a ruthless commander whose goal is to kill as many demons as possible, not save those being possessed.

Even with two high ranking people the angel's gaze was drawn to the lieutenant standing off to the side, the same one he saved on the field earlier. Not for the first time that day, Castiel was mesmerized by the brightness of this man's soul. In all his existence, no soul had burned brighter. That doesn't happen by accident.

"Ah," the Commander responded. "Apologies for interrupting your meal. Thank you for coming." Castiel narrowed his eyes. It's unusual for him to be this pleasant. Mills turned to Lord Winchester. "This is Novak. One of our finest. He joined our battalion shortly before you called the banners. Impeccable timing in my opinion."

Lord Winchester studied Castiel for a moment as if deciding his fate. It was hard not to squirm under his gaze. "Does Novak have a full name?"

"Everyone calls…"

All he did was look. One look and Mills shut his mouth tighter than a devil's trap. The fact Lord Winchester could render someone speechless so easily was oddly amusing to Castiel. The angel glanced behind the pair and caught the also amused gaze of the third man yet to speak, but quickly returned his attention to the superiors.

"I believe this man can speak for himself," Lord Winchester calmly pointed out before turning back to the man in question.

In response, the angel found himself straightening his posture out of respect. The older man had that effect. Even so, Castiel hesitated. Logically, the number of people knowing his name must be kept at a minimum. While the Angel of Thursday wasn't well known to most humans, any demon would easily recognize his name.

But there wasn't really a way around it since Mills already knew. "Castiel Novak, My Lord," he finally complied, "Most call me Novak."

"Well, Novak, I know it's unusual calling you here," Lord Winchester begun. His body language and expression are neutral giving no signs if the conversation will turn sour. But then, in the blink of an eye, his shoulders relaxed while offering what could be considered the makings of a warm smile. He steps forward raising his calloused hand, "but I wanted to personally thank you."

This confused Castiel even more, but he obliges the handshake. "Pardon My Lord, but might I ask what for?"

"Earlier today you saved him," he gestured toward the third man who began stepping forward, "my most trusted lieutenant on the battlefield from one of my men who was possessed. You saved my son."

"Dean Winchester," the man introduced.

"Pleasure."

The pair shook hands and Castiel was immediately immersed in a field of green. He noticed the unusual color earlier on the field, but it wasn't until now details came into focus. The shade could be compared to a rare peaceful meadow with an offer of renewal. Determination set the startling irises ablaze that only come with seasoned fighters. But there was something else; something Castiel couldn't quite decipher before Lord Winchester spoke once more.

"For your brave act of saving someone so important to the fight and to me, I wish to reward you. Any reasonable item or action is yours."

Castiel had no hesitations with his choice. "Thank you, Lord Winchester, but it is unnecessary."

"Novak…" The Commander's tone held serious warning, but the surprise of the refusal was unmistakable even to the angel.

"I mean no disrespect, My Lord," he continued, "but my actions were not the result of his rank or lineage. I saw a fellow soldier in need and did what I could to help because it's what I hope others would do for me."

He doesn't mention the heavy guilt weighing on his shoulders. Or how he feels responsible for the fall of his brothers and sisters of Heaven and has been trying to atone for it since.

The eldest man's expression shifted to something that could only be described as a hint of pride. Although why he seemed pleased with Castiel's answer was beyond him. He turned back to Mills who was still sending glares to his subordinate. "Commander Mills," he traded glaring for standing at attention. "I wish to transfer Castiel Novak to my command."

Mills immediately attempted to stutter out a shocked protest. "But… but My Lord. He… he's one of our best fighters. You can't…"

"I understand. But there are much larger things afoot and I need the best there is. I'm sorry. This is not up for discussion." Lord Winchester at least looked sympathetic about his actions, but there was something else going on. It was easy to spot the wheels turning in his head. He turned to Dean then. "Assist Castiel in gathering his things and find a place for him in our barracks."

"Yes, Sir," Dean saluted.

His father addressed Castiel, "You will receive your assignment in the morning."

"Yes, My Lord," he managed to choke out. _Did that really just happen?_

"Now if you'll excuse us, I'm sure Commander Mills would like a word with me."

"Come on," Dean whispered while pulling on Castiel's arm. He allowed himself to be led out of the tent as he tried to process what had just occurred. It was unusual for a high ranking official to request a single transfer like that. Normally one would ask for entire troops and battalions. Things just weren't adding up, but one thing was for sure; things were about to get much more complicated for the angel.


	3. Choice of Tomorrow

**Author's Notes: So turns out this story is easy to write. I'm trying to focus some time to my other stories, but this one just has it claws in me. Anyways, not much for me to say this time around except please let me know what you think. Enjoy!**

**~quinnarrow**

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**Chapter 2: Choice of Tomorrow**

"Dean!"

The exhausted man turned as his younger brother weaved between person after person towards him. He was nearly four years his senior yet the youngest Winchester surpassed him in intelligence and height. Even from an early age it was clear how special he was.

"Hiya Sammy."

Dean braced himself as Sam wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Limits to physical contact had been instilled in him from an early age, but Sam was always the exception. Since their father never allowed his youngest on the battlefield, he would have to wait every day to hear the fate of his brother. It was an unspoken tradition to embrace each other after a battle just to ensure the other was okay.

Sam released his hold and smiled. "Garth said you were on your way to the barracks, so I thought I'd come find you."

"Yeah. Dad asked me to find a spot for the new guy."

"What new guy?"

Dean shrugged and started walking back to the brothers' tent. Private sleeping tents was one of the perks of being heir to the Eastlands. Sam quickly fell into step beside him. "A soldier from the Mills Battalion. He save my ass today, so Dad had him transferred I guess."

"Really?" Sam shot a look of confusion. "Why would he do that? It doesn't sound like something he would do."

"No idea. I didn't exactly stick around to question his authority in front of that dirtbag Commander Mills." Dean practically spat the name.

Everyone knew about Mills. He was the type of guy to trample his own people to grab power. The only reason Lord Winchester had called his banner was the need for higher numbers of soldiers.

Dean shook his head and continued. "But the new guy seems decent if not a little odd. I'm just glad he was on the field today."

Sam reached out, holding the flaps to their tent as Dean walked through before following himself. Their living space was decent size; large enough for the brothers to feel slightly guilty about it. Each bed was on opposite sides with a clear divide down the middle. Sam's side had a full chest of books with demon lore and spells. The bed was constantly covered with personal notes; it acted more like a desk than a place to sleep.

Dean's side on the other hand was quite bare in comparison. Bed neatly made, a few notes stranded here or there, a place to put his clothes, armor and various weapons and tools. He never carried much with him for battle, only what was necessary. It just made things easier.

The bed creaked as Dean sat down in a huff. He absentmindedly rubbed the center of his chest that was undoubtedly bruised under the tunic.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam questioned noticing his brother's actions.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"What happened?"

Dean let his hand drop into his lap and looked down in thought. "A demon possessed one of our own and attacked me. He was about to skewer me right in the eye when the new guy tackled him."

Same raised an eyebrow with a knowing smirk. "So that's how you met."

The comment was met with a half-hearted glare. It was no secret Dean was getting older and he hadn't exactly settled down with anyone. It was uncommon, especially for an heir, to not be married at his age. Dean just never found the right person or had the desire to look for them. Until that happened Sam teased whenever the opportunity presented itself. Which was to say a lot.

"Anyways," he continued, "he exorcised the demon and ran off.

"Why didn't anybody from your troops help you?"

"Well," Dean said sheepishly know exactly Sam's reaction, "I, uh, kind of ended up further from the fight than I intended."

"Oh come on," Sam exclaimed. "You told me you would be careful."

"I am careful!"

"I can name three times in the last week alone that proves otherwise."

"I can't control everything! I'm not God."

"Whatever Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam tossed his pillow at Dean who easily batted it away nearly knocking down the lantern. The brotherly banter continued, but Dean's mind was elsewhere. Most of his father's actions always had a purpose and he could not for the life of him figure out why he made the transfer of Castiel Novak. For some reason it was bothering him not knowing. Usually he didn't have to think too hard about these kind of thing in order to understand. But not this time. The only explanation he could think of was a reward for saving his son's life, but the reasoning was too weak. John Winchester had to be planning something. And Dean wanted to know what it was.

* * *

The next morning, both Sam and Dean waited alone in the War Tent. A runner had told them their father wanted to see them after breakfast, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sam had taken to studying the map on the back table while Dean occupied a chair mindlessly spinning his silver dagger.

Their attention was drawn to movement at the tent entrance. Dean was taken by surprise as Castiel Novak walked in. It was the first time he'd seen the guy without his armor, but the plain, simple slacks and tunic seemed… more natural on him.

The man had stopped walking after noticing the brothers. The silence was getting a bit awkward so Dean cleared his throat.

"Mornin', Cas."

Cas looked to Dean with a slight head tilt, brows furrowed in confusion at the new nickname. But he quickly recomposed himself before saying "Good Morning, Dean", his voice as low and gruff as ever. He might be able to compete with his father on that front.

Sam started walking forward to introduce himself, but Dean decided teasing was in order. A little revenge for the night before. "That is my annoying, less-handsome little brother Sam." Sam shot a quick glare but held out his hand anyways. "Sam this is Cas, the new guy from yesterday."

The pair shook hands and Dean noticed the slight glint of mischief in his brother's eye. "It's an honor. I've heard _so_ much about you."

Cas's shoulders tensed. "You have?"

"Oh yeah," Sam replied with unnecessary enthusiasm, "Dean talked all night about how you saved him yesterday on the field. Wouldn't shut up about it."

"Oh." Cas relaxed with a sigh. If Dean didn't know any better, he could've sworn he saw a hint of relief in the strange man's demeanor.

"Ignore him," he grumbled. "So, Cas, what brings you here?"

"I was told Lord Winchester required my presence. I can only assume I will receive my assignment as he declare last night."

"Well I can't say you're wrong."

Three heads whipped around as the man himself came walking into the tent. Cas immediately stood at attention while the boys stayed put. Dean didn't even bother getting up.

"Actually," the older man continued, "all of you are getting an assignment."

Dean immediately locked eyes with Sam. The excitement and hope in his expression was unhindered. This would be the first time the youngest would get to fight on the field. Dean was happy for him. He truly was but worry acted as a heavy shroud. Protecting Sam always came above all else. He never wanted his baby brother to be put in harm's way. Sam knew more about demons and angels and monsters than anybody Dean had met. But applying that knowledge on the battlefield was a whole other story. He'd be lying if he said a protest wasn't on the tip of his tongue.

John motioned for them to gather around the map Sam had been studying earlier. "It's no secret humanity's struggling. Demons are mostly unorganized yet strong and unrelenting." He leaned onto his knuckles still looking down at the map. "Other lords and I have been discussing a change in tactics. One that requires a bit more… finesse. Demons have been hunting us from the very beginning. Now it's their turn to be hunted. We've agreed to create small teams of people we trust and send them to track small groups of demons down and take them out. This way their forces will slowly weaken until we're ready to send all of them back to Hell."

"And you want us to be one of those teams," Sam concluded.

John nodded. "Exactly. There's no one I trust more than my two boys. And you," He turned his eyes to Cas who had become statue-like. "I've had my eye on you the first moment you stepped on that battlefield two months ago. You're a fighter; strong-willed and calculating. I have a good feeling about you Novak, but if I'm wrong," John steeled his gaze, "my boys know how to protect themselves."

Cas didn't even blink. "Yes, My Lord."

Sam looked at Dean and mouthed _'Novak?'_

Dean rolled his eyes and silently replied, _'last name'_.

Lord Winchester nodded in approval. "Good. The plan is to check out reports of demon sightings and either eliminate them all or use one to gather information. Easier said than done, but this could be the very thing that changes the war in our favor."

"Well when you put it like that…" Dean mumbled.

John ignored him. "Now even though I am your father and your lord, I can't force you to do this. For me to accept I'm sending my only children to hunt demons, I need to know if you're alright with this."

The brothers had no hesitations.

"Absolutely."

"Yes, Sir."

Cas however did noticeably hesitate. All eyes turned to him at the lack of response. His face held no emotional expression; Dean found it chilling. Cas finally looked up upon noticing the silence and swallowed. "I do not believe I am the logical choice for this assignment. I am merely a soldier."

"That may be," John contemplated, "but like I said, I have a good feeling about you. Earth is ours. Don't you think it's high time the demons are reminded of that?"

The argument was pretty solid in Dean's opinion. It's what made his dad such an effective leader and why his leadership was not only well-known but respected throughout the lands. Unfortunately, Dean wasn't the one needing convincing. Cas was still staring at the elder Winchester with an unblinking gaze for what seemed like forever before averting his eyes and sighing. "Alright. It would be an honor to fight by your son's sides."

"Great," John beamed. "Here's what we know so far…"

* * *

"Hey Cas?"

The man stopped walking and turned back as Dean entered the makeshift horse corral. The sun had finally reached above the peaks of the mountains chasing the chill and shadows away. John wanted the newly formed team to leave the encampment as soon as possible so Dean had a short window of opportunity to talk to his new comrade alone.

"Hello, Dean."

Cas was now dressed in the standard Winchester leather armor similar to Dean. It was lightweight yet offered more protection than just a tunic. John must've found it for him. It fit surprisingly well consider it wasn't custom made.

"So," Dean was having a hard time finding his words. It didn't happen often but the man was having trouble concentrating while those blue eyes stared right at him.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "So, uh, are you okay?"

Honestly, this wasn't something Dean would normally do; ask about feelings. And being in charge of a large group of people gave him that luxury. It was like armor against intimacy. Sure, the lieutenant had a close working relationship with his men, but there was nothing beyond that. Just a common will to defend their home. However, he understood the stakes of this new mission. With only three of them with no backup, all required to be in top shape with no distractions or reservations. They needed to be one hundred percent committed if they were going to pull this off. And even though he agreed, Castiel was still recognizably hesitant.

Cas tilted his head. It was a gesture Dean was beginning to recognize as a common thing with the soldier. "I am fine."

"Right," Dean huffed. "Are you sure? I know we barely know each other, but you seemed really tense back there when the plan was being laid out."

Laughter drew the pair's attention to outside the corral. Two foot soldiers were saddling their horses. The sigil on their armor suggested the Mills Battalion. Dean immediately disliked both of them.

"Something funny?" he challenged.

"Oh extremely," one barked, "Novak there is always tense. Haven't you noticed?"

The other one huffed with a cruel smirk. "Yeah. The day he cracks a smile is the day the angels return."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas clench his fist, knuckles turning white in the process. The man was clearly angered by the comment yet said nothing. Fire sparked inside Dean's chest. Unlike his comrade, Dean hated staying silent.

"Uh huh," he deadpanned and turned to Cas speaking loudly. "Hey Cas, do you think Commander Mills knows his men are sneaking off to the nearest town for some action? Maybe the battlefield isn't exciting enough."

The look on both the soldier's faces was priceless as one immediately tried to deny it. "Wha… you… you don't know what you're talking about."

"You know," Dean continued as if not hearing them, "one would think two strapping young _boys_ would know how to hide hickeys better."

Mill's men left pretty soon after that stuttering curses under their breath while leading their horses out of the coral. They hadn't even finished strapping the saddles correctly.

Dean laughed as they left but Cas merely furrowed his brows. "That was unnecessary."

Dean attempted to stifle his laughter still riding the high of success. "I disagree. How could you let those guys talk about you like that?"

Cas shrugged. "There was no point. Neither would have listened to what I had to say, plus I've learned staying silent is the best way to avoid future conflict."

Dean didn't really have an answer for that. His whole life he's defended himself and his brother countless times. The fact someone would just take a verbal beating like that never crossed his mind. Just another puzzle piece that created the picture of Castiel. So he just shrugged and slapped the strange man's shoulder.

"Come on," he beamed. "We got a world to save."

* * *

**Author's Notes: Please review they give me life!**


	4. Whispering Winds

**Author's Notes: It has not been long at all but let me tell you I want to share this story... like a lot. I'm rally enjoying it and exploring different ideas and dynamics. Hopefully you guys are just as excited as I am. Anyways, enjoy :)**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Whispering Winds**

Castiel hated not being able to fly. Physically he still could, but the risk of recognition was too great with others around. There weren't many species who could disappear in a blink of an eye. And that's all humans saw. One moment there's an angel standing there and the next there's not. They don't experience the rush of wind or the excitement of plummeting towards the ground in a challenge to pull up at the last possible moment. The joys of chasing his siblings through the stars is what Castiel missed most. And he would happily give his wings if it meant seeing his family alive again.

The angel shook his head to clear away thoughts knowing they'd only bring heartache. Instead he focused on the two brothers riding ahead. They seemed to be in some sort of mindless argument while attempting to avoid the low branches of the forest.

Lord Winchester had received word of a small gathering of demons in the ruins of Klord. Unfortunately the ruins were quite far from Thindol Valley; a two day journey on horseback through dense forest. The plan was to check the area and kill the demons if possible. Castiel could easily handle the task himself, but with the brothers around, using any Heavenly power was no longer an option.

"Hey Cas?"

Castiel looked up at the nickname Dean seemed to prefer. Both brother's heads were turned to his general direction.

"You agree with me, right?" Dean asked. "Back me up here."

"Don't listen to him," Sam countered. "Dean just refuses to accept the truth."

The elder Winchester scowled. "Just because some old guy wrote a _claim_ down centuries ago doesn't make it fact."

"It's _because_ its written down I believe it. Unlike your claim which has absolutely nothing to back it up."

"It's called logical thinking Sam."

"Since when do you think logically?"

"Since always!" Dean looked over his shoulder once more. "Come on, Cas. What do you think?"

Castiel tilted his head in response. "I don't understand. What's being discussed?"

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam explained. "Dean thinks people knew how to brew coffee when it was first discovered. That nothing came before that."

"There's no other way to drink it!"

"That journal says otherwise. People ate the beans for a while before learning to brew."

"Actually, it came from berries first." Both brothers shot looks of confusion to Castiel so he continued. "When hu… when it was first discovered people would chew on the berries. You learned it from the goats."

"Oh come on. That's just a folktale," Dean argued.

"Sometimes folktales hold truth."

Sam seemed to contemplate the information while Dean just faced forward muttering "whatever" under his breath.

It wasn't long after the three newly named hunters found themselves on top of a hill overlooking the ruins. The woods they'd been riding through abruptly ended as if a barrier prevented further growth. The ground was scorched and scarred holding little promise life would ever return. The setting sun cast the remaining structure of the once great keep in an unfavorable light. Large stones that were once high walls peppered the area around the single standing ruin. The roof had long been destroyed, but four battered walls reached into the air in defiance of chaos.

Dean gave a low whistle. "Must have been some fight."

Sam dismounted with a grim expression. "I would think so. Rumor has it this is where demons and angels had their last battle on Earth. The angels fell not long after."

"Long before our time Sammy."

Castiel had fallen silent ignoring the brothers. When Lord Winchester revealed the location they were headed, a lump had lodged in his throat and had stubbornly refused to dissipate since. He'd known returning to this place would be difficult. But the angel had underestimated just how difficult. No one else knew what each and every scorch mark covering Klord actually meant.

"I say we wait 'til nightfall to check it out."

Castiel startled as Dean suddenly appeared beside him. He hadn't even noticed the man dismounting. The elder Winchester was giving a curious look. It wasn't until a raise of an eyebrow Castiel realized he was waiting for an answer.

"O… oh," he stuttered, "Yes. That is an ideal plan."

Before Dean could question him, Castiel dismounted and joined Sam where he was securing the horses repeating the actions for his own.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded, suppressing all emotions. "I am fine." For years, the angel has yearned for someone to share his troubles with. But since all of his brothers and sisters were no more, he was alone.

Sam just gave a knowing look. "I know you barely know us, but you can always talk to us. If you want that is. We're a team now. That means we look out for each other. Dean and I have been doing it our whole lives." He shrugged. "I'd be happy to add one more to the list."

Castiel felt the corners of his mouth twitch and quickly looked away. Guess both Winchester's could easily read people. Or he didn't hide his emotions as well as he thought. However, the words were touching, some of the kindest in his time on Earth, but keeping humans at arm's length is how he'd survived for so long. He composed his features into a blank stare before returning his gaze upwards to Sam.

"I appreciate that, Sam, but there is nothing to talk about."

The younger Winchester's shoulders slumped in slight defeat as his brother called out to them. "Are you two gonna talk all night? We got a job to do."

They joined Dean at the crest of the hill, observing as the shadows grew ever longer. All eyes drew to the four walls. Castiel could feel the demon's presence. Just a few hidden from view. Not enough to warrant a warning to the brothers. He patted the amulet beneath his shirt; an enochian symbol that prevents other creatures from seeing his true form beneath his vessel or sensing his presence.

"We'll use the cover of night to run across the field," Dean continued.

Sam hummed in agreement. "That's smart. Those walls look like they have multiple entry points. We can each take a wall and attack simultaneously from all sides."

"Demons won't even know what hit them," Dean beamed obviously proud of his brother. "We can do this no sweat."

Castiel could only hope he was right.

* * *

Dean was wrong. Dean was very wrong.

Although Castiel supposed there was no way of knowing the demons had allied with two djinns. That small piece of unknown information had left the three hunters unprepared and vulnerable. A silver knife dipped in lamb's blood was nowhere to be found.

It didn't take long for the odd group of creatures to overwhelm them. Sam and Dean were pressed against the opposite wall facing off with the demons while one djinn stalked waiting for the right moment to fill them with its poison.

Castiel found himself separated from the others while fending off the other djinn. A kick to the center of his chest sent him flying into the already damaged wall. The djinn attempted to pin him immediately after he crumpled to the ground. All Castiel could do was try to keep the monster from touching him. He'd dropped his demon blade a while ago, not that it would do any good at the moment.

The djinn straddled his waist reaching for his head; hands glowing threateningly blue. It took more than a single touch to poison an angel, but he wasn't immune. By some sheer luck the djinn was wearing long sleeves, so Castiel gripped its forearms preventing contact. A yell of frustration filled the air as the creature began to wildly lash out. Castiel could tell his grip was weakening and he was out of options.

Well… almost.

Castiel risked a glance towards the brothers. Only two demons were left dancing around the fallen bodies of their brethren. The djinn was still stalking. But most importantly, everyone was well distracted. Decision made, the angel did something he hadn't done in years.

Allowing the weight of the djinn to fall, Castiel guided the momentum to the left of his head. The djinn barely had time to sit back up before Castiel felt a comforting weight appear in his right hand. Wrapping his fingers around the cold hilt, the angel blade was quickly slipped into the creature's ribs. A cry of pain tore through its throat as the blue glow of power faded from its eyes.

Body pushed aside, Castiel stood. The final djinn had turned at the cry of its kin filled with rage. But that rage quickly turned to shock and fear as its gaze fell upon the blood soaked angel blade.

It actually took a step back. "No no no no. You can't be…" It stepped back once more still in shock as Castiel began to advance. "You're an a…"

The angle blade sunk into its chest. The body fell to the ground as he pulled out the blade. The sound of the death of a demon drew Castiel's attention. Sam released his hold on the now lifeless body as Dean retrieved his blade from the last demon's neck.

Silence filled the room as chaos dissipated. Only ragged breaths pierced the void as the three hunters soaked in their victory.

Or as Dean muttered, "Holy crap."

"Cas?"

Castiel straightened as he finally recovered his breath. Looking to Sam, he saw wide eyes darting between him, the blade in his hand, and the two dead bodies of the djinns.

Sam swallowed finally finding his words. "Did you… how… how did you kill the djinn?"

"I, uh… I did it with this," he looked down at the angel blade, "I wasn't even sure if it would work." Lie. "But it was my only option." Almost truth. "It's not a blade I enjoy using and rarely do so." Complete lie. "What matters is it worked."

"That's some blade if it can kill a Djinn," Dean commented. "Where'd you get it?"

Castiel thought for a moment, choosing words carefully. "I suppose you could call it a family heirloom."

Dean hummed. "So no chance of getting another?"

"No." He hoped he kept the sadness from his tone. He knew more questions were coming. But if there was one thing the angel had learned from his time on Earth, it's how to avoid questions. "We should inform Lord Winchester about the djinn. The fact these demons were working with other creatures means others are as well."

The brothers looked taken back by the sudden change of topic, but luckily didn't comment.

"That's a good idea," Sam said, "there's a town a few hours south of here. We can send a raven from there."

The group continued discussing the events of the night and what to do next. Eventually, Castiel was able to discretely make his beloved angel blade disappear and it wasn't brought up again. Having only air to grasp left a feeling of vulnerability; a feeling Castiel truly disliked. Now that his companions knew about his blade, he'd have to be more careful than before. Sam and Dean were observant; more so than anticipated. The angel would always need to be ready to flee at the first signs of recognition.

But there was something else stirring beneath. A different feeling still easily overpowered and barely noticeable, but it was there, nonetheless. The thought of leaving these two humans just didn't feel completely… right. Like there was an invisible tether pulling his very being to the brothers. It wasn't something Castiel understood.

The angel had never feared much in his long life, but that feeling; it scared him.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Please follow for notifications on updates and review to let me know what you think! You can find my on tumblr under the name quinnarrow if you wanna chat about this story. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Anger of Stone

**Author's Notes: Hey hey hey! What's up, people? So I'd actually written this chapter and the next after the one that's now Ch. 6. I felt like things were moving too quickly and more character and relationship development was needed. I'm actually quite pleased with how this one turned out, especially the second half.**

**FYI, the setting of the second half is inspired by Rock City in C****hattanooga, TN. I was there a few months before writing this and it was creepily beautiful. I hope i gave it somewhat justice with its description. Anyways enough chatter. Please follow and review!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Anger of Stone**

Dean paced as they waited. "What's taking so long?"

"Asking every couple minutes is not going to make him magically appear," Sam deadpanned.

"All I'm saying is that you'd think a lord would know how to be on time. I mean we could be hunting demons right now."

Castiel understood the frustration. The group of hunters had overheard some news of a small exploration party going missing for several weeks before suddenly returning to their hometown unscathed. Several unexplained incidents were reported since the arrival, so the hunters suspected demon possession and were about check it out when an urgent message requesting aid came in.

The oak doors sung open as Lord Rosen and a young woman hustled in. Sam and Castiel stood in respect as Dean came to a halt.

"My apologies for keeping you," Lord Rosen said. "Please sit."

The hunter took chairs next to one another as Rosen and the woman sat across the intricate metal table. The craftsmanship complimented the rest of the room quite well. If Castiel had to guess, he'd say this was where battle strategies were discussed.

Rosen continued, "I appreciate your hast and willingness to help, My Lords. I understand your time is needed for the demise of demons, but no other options were available for our… situation."

"We're happy to help, Lord Rosen," Sam declared.

"And," Dean spoke, "we are not lords. Just three hunters doing their job."

"Just call us Sam, Dean, and Cas."

The young woman nearly squealed in the moment drawing all gazes. She bit her lip hard and averted her eyes.

Castiel attempted to bring back the conversation. "My Lord, how are you aware of our activities? We've only been hunting for a few months."

Rosen chuckled. "Word travels fast when it wants to. And I agreed with Lord Winchester's plan about hunting demons. I do have hunters of my own, but you three have gathered quite the reputation. The Winchester brothers and their companion seem to be killing demons, ghosts, and witches all over the kingdom."

Castiel supposed that would be true. Creatures of all kinds, including demons, had been causing mayhem in most of the towns they went to. New ones crossed their path at least once a week.

"So what seems to be the problem?" Sam inquired.

"Well, it's a bit difficult to explain. We've been driven out of our sacred grounds for nearly two years by some unknown creature. People began disappearing so I sent some soldiers to investigate. The few that returned…"- Rosen swallowed hard – "It's like their minds were pulled apart and stitched together the wrong way. They've never been the same since."

"And no one else has seen the thing," Dean stated.

Lord Rosen shook his head "Unfortunately no."

"Why call for help now? If it's been two years, why not hunt the thing down before?"

"Because of my daughter." The man gestured to the woman beside him. "Becky believes she saw a shadow of the creature stalking our walls. The creature's been staying on our sacred grounds and only lashing out when disturbed, but now I'm fearful of an attack."

"But now you're here! And everything will be alright," the woman, Becky, exclaimed.

Rosen gave a stern look to his daughter. "Sweetie we talked about this." Becky appeared to have no regrets. "As I was saying, any tools or men you require is yours. I suggest you move quickly and complete the task during daylight."

"Understood, My Lord." Sam stood and everyone soon followed. "We appreciate the offer, but I think we have everything we need."

"We can handle it. Besides, we don't want to put more of your people in danger if we don't have too," Dean added nonchalantly.

This was something Castiel had notices about the elder Winchester recently. He often portrayed himself as a man with little fear. Many believed that to the future Lord of the Eastlands, demons were a mere annoyance; the widespread stories of their hunts only bolstered the thought. But over the past months, Castiel has noticed small things, unrecognizable unless you know what to look for. It was difficult to describe.

The elder man's shoulders slumped in what can only be described as pure relief as he stood. "Words cannot express my gratitude. I wish you three the best of luck."

As Lord Rosen and Becky left to continue their day, the three men looked at each other. Castiel could see the brothers had a similar thought running through their minds. And it wasn't one of certainty.

* * *

The sacred grounds were frighteningly beautiful. Castiel admired his surroundings, attempting to not fall behind the two brothers ahead. Out of all the places in the world – and he's seen much – this was near the top of the angel's favorites. The beauty of it reminded him of home.

A dense fog hung around the top of the mountain the grounds resided upon; unwilling the let go of the morning dew. The uneven stone path wound its way left and right with no rhyme or reason. Some places were wide enough the let a horde of riders wander with ease. Others forcing walking travelers to slip through one at a time. On either side of the path stood rock structures tower so far overhead, the tops stayed hidden in the mist. The grounds seemed as if God himself took a fine blade and carved the mountain peak.

The hunters stayed silent through their trek. A sense of danger following them with every step. After crossing a simple stone bridge over the open air, the area opened wide beckoning the wary fighters forward. Nearly a hundred paces from the bridge presented the edge of a cliff to the hunters, again their view obstructed by the fog. Castiel felt slightly disoriented while peering at the endless wall of white. There was no doubt the view of the valley below was stunning on a clear day. No one wanted to break the silence fearing the peace be disturbed.

Dean finally sighed. "Wishful thinking, but maybe the thing ran off."

"Maybe it's nocturnal?" Sam offered. "I mean the majority of the attacks happened at night, right?"

"Don't mean it can't attack now. I'm sure there's plenty of places to hide around here."

Castiel nodded in agreement. Not a single stone seemed recently disturbed. However there were many side trails left unchecked. The angel felt heavy with unease. There was something definitely off about this place. Glancing at the brother beside him, Castiel silently let his senses expand pass human limits.

The presence at the mouth of the bridge immediately grabbed his attention.

Without removing his gaze from the foggy valley, Castiel gently wrapped a hand around Dean's forearm. The man only glanced at his comrade understanding the silent meaning of the gesture. In turn, Castiel vaguely saw Dean lightly tap the back of Sam's hand with his own. Slowly, as one unit, each hunter lifted a hand the swords hanging at their belts. He barely laid a finger on the hilt when a voice casually called out.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It'll ruin the fun."

Hands retracting from weapons, the group of three turned to face the threat. He looked like a man though one could never be sure. At least he wasn't a demon, that much was obvious to the angel. The tattered clothes and muddy, worn-out boots suggested he'd been living out here for a while. Brown, disheveled hair nearly reached his slumping shoulders. Dark circles decorating wild eyes were a stark contrast to the extremely pale complexion.

"You know," he continued, "I'll give you credit for noticing me so quickly. Most never stand a chance." He brought a finger to his chin in mock thought. "Though I suppose I could use a challenge."

"What are you," Dean blurted.

Their foe tilted his head looking slightly offended. "Well, that's a bit rude, don't you think?"

"You're human."

The man glared at Castiel for the statement. His silence was answer enough.

"Why are you killing innocent people?" Same demanded.

"Innocent," he nearly screamed, rage boiling in an instant. "Every person in that wretched town is anything but innocent. They cast me out of my own home without so much as a warning. They deserve what's coming to them."

"Why'd they cast you out?"

Castiel couldn't really blame Sam for keeping the man talking. The more information given, the better. But the angel had a feeling there was something more. It almost seemed the younger brother was hesitant about attacking. He was human after all. Sure, fighting demons and ghosts were one thing, but a living, breathing human was a whole other mental barrier.

The man continued his rage filled rant. "Why? Because I'm better than all of them. I can get inside their heads. I know what they truly want, what they truly fear and bring them to life. I can show it all until their fragile minds break."

Sam immediately went rigid. Dean cast a worried glance his way but said nothing.

The youngest Winchester remembered to breath. "You're psychic."

A sadistic smile spread across the man's face. He slowly spun; arms out wide as he spoke. "We have a smart one over here! Ten Units to the tall guy." He stopped, facing the hunters once more. "And you know what's funny? I've been in all your heads the moment you stepped foot into this place. And I have to say" – he pointed a boney finger at Castiel – "that you, my friend, hold more guilt than anyone I've ever seen."

Castiel felt every muscle turn to stone. Ice filled his very core making every breath on the verge of painful. His mind was filled with a single repeating thought: _He knows._

The psychic continued, unaware of the storm brewing inside. "I mean, there's so much guilt I couldn't find much else."

The angel nearly slumped with relief. But the reprieve lasted mere moments.

"Until now." The same chilling smile returned. "Say hi to your brother for me."

And Castiel's world spun. Nausea plagued his body, mind unable to string thoughts together. Heart pounding, threatening to burst. He could feel the stonework beneath his planted feet, but his vision tilted every which way blurring the surroundings together. The angel vaguely registered someone shouting, the fear and concern dripping from the undecipherable words.

His world continued in chaos, yet one face came into focus. Cropped sandy-blonde hair. Easy going smile promising some sort of mischief. Smile lines illuminating eyes that were normally welcoming but could turn cold without warning. Leather armor shredded beyond repair. Blood free flowing from multiple open wounds dripping onto the gray stones below.

Balthazar tilted his hear the corners of his mouth rising skyward. "Hey Cassie. Miss me?"

* * *

"Cas!" Dean yelled for what seemed like the hundredth time. The dark-haired man gave no indication he heard his friends calls or shoulder shakes. Cas stood perfectly still arms lax at his sides. At a quick glance, one would think nothing was wrong. But the normally bright blue eyes told a different story; it was as if the fog clinging to the valley had entered his gaze allowing only a hint of color shining through. After ten minutes with no change, both Sam and Dean began to truly worry.

The elder hunter glared at the bloodied psychic kneeling a few feet away. Sam stood firmly behind him, gripping his collar with one hand, pressing his sword to the man's throat with the other. The gleam painted in his eyes expressed the pleasure he felt with the current situation; even if he was so easily subdued.

"What did you do to him?" Dean growled.

The psychic huffed, barely resisting Sam's hold. "You know it's a funny story…"

Sam jerked him slightly cutting him off. "Stop toying with us and answer the question."

"Fine, fine. I didn't do much. Just letting the poor guy get reacquainted with a family member."

Dean wasn't sure what to make of that. Cas had never mentioned his family and neither brother pushed for information. Dean was honestly curious about what the psychic figured out. But not like this. Not while his friend was in danger.

Dean pushed his thoughts aside glaring once more. "Bring him back. Now."

"Or what?" the man challenged.

Anger set green eyes ablaze like a burning meadow. But it was more than anger. It was a silent promise. A promise of unrelenting pain both physical and mental. It's something Dean showed few and far between. Only when the safety of those he cared about most was threatened. He idly wondered when Cas snuck his way onto that particular list.

No words were needed as the psychic flinched at what he saw.

Voice shaken, he finally said, "I can't do it."

"Why?" Dean's voice was clipped and cold. He ignored the nervous glances Sam sent his way.

"Because I don't know how," the psychic sobbed, façade crumbling under Dean's gaze. "Breaking a mind is easy. But piecing one together… it's something completely different."

The elder Winchester attempted to smother the flames of anger and took a deep breath. He turned back to Castiel trusting his brother to watch the psychic as a desperate idea formed. He'd noticed Sam's unease about fighting a psychic right away. He couldn't blame him after being tricked by a man with similar abilities when they were teenagers. One night, Dean had found his brother collapsed on his bedroom floor half-out of his mind. In a blind attempt to save Sam, Dean was able somehow able to guide him back to sanity.

Dean didn't know if he'd be able to do it again, but there was no way in hell he wasn't going to try. Placing both hands on his friend's shoulders, Dean looked deep into clouded eyes. Hoping to leave the worry from his tone, he spoke low and smooth.

"Cas, can you hear me?"

* * *

**Author's Note: So what'd ya think? Slight cliffhanger, but I felt like it was a good place to stop. Please follow for notifications on when this story is updated and please review! I want to know your thoughts and they fuel my desire to write. ****You can find my on tumblr under the name quinnarrow if you wanna chat about this story. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Healing the Shadows

**Author's Notes: What's up everyone? I know, I know... it's been a while. Things have picked up at work and I haven't had as much time or energy to write, hence the longer-than-a-month break (sorry about the cliffhanger).**

**Anyways, please follow for update notifications and review!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Healing the Shadows**

He knew exactly what was happening. He remembered the events leading to it; meeting Lord Rosen, walking through the sacred grounds, conversing with the psychic. He remembered the man's words as he took over the angel's mind. Logically, Castiel knew what his eyes were seeing was not reality.

But the pain and heartache was as fresh as the first time he witnessed his brother's death.

It started out with a smile; one Castiel hasn't seen for a very long time. The taunting would quickly follow. Words changed, but the meaning stayed constant.

"Why didn't you come back for me?" Balthazar would say, smile vanishing. "Why did you get to live while every one of our kin died? What makes you so special?"

Castiel would try to respond, to explain he wasn't special. But the words caught in his throat leaving him in silent agony. Despair took hold knowing any attempts were in vain. Desperation fueled despair as knowledge of what was to come became apparent. The trapped angel struggled against an invisible force. Every muscle in his vessel staining as silent pleas fell from his lips. But it was never enough.

The tip of an angel blade protruded from Balthazar's chest painted red with blood. Castiel instinctively looked away as the bright light of his brother's existence was snuffed. But that didn't block the pained scream that filled the air. It was a sound the lone angel could never forget. If he were a creature who slept, Castiel knew it would haunt his dreams.

Blue eyes would hesitantly open once silence reached his ears. But relief was miles away. Even as Balthazar stood in front of the younger angel. Starting again with that easy-going smile.

Castiel lost count how many times he watched his brother die. An endless cycle with the same ending no matter the victim's struggles to change it. He needed to break the loop. He needed something else to focus on from the outside world. Something to latch onto…

"…ou… me?"

There. Right there. The familiar voice seemed to come from a distant place as it echoed against stone. Somewhere not yet reachable. But it was something. Castiel desperately clung to the words like a lifeline.

"…amn it, come on. We ne… pal."

Dean's voice was getting closer, more persistent. A light pressure on his shoulders appeared as the angel imagined an unbreakable rope tethering himself to the words.

"I need you to give me a sign," Dean gently demanded. "Any movement you can do to let me know you can hear me."

The invisible force was strong and unrelenting. But the angel was nothing if not persistent. Summoning in-human strength for the first time in years, he pushed back ignoring his brother's shouts.

_'I'm an angel,'_ he thought. _'I've lived thousands of years. I will not me defeated be some insignificant mortal.'_

Thoughts fueling his strength, Castiel gave one last push. Ever so slowly, the angel tilted his head.

He could hear the smile in Dean's voice. "That's it. Good work, Cas. Now, what you're seeing isn't real. Remember you're with Sam and me. We're hunting a psychic who put you in some sort of trance. You need to break out of it."

Castiel knew this already. But with every word spoken, he gave a tug on the imaginary rope leading to reality. The vision was on the verge of collapse; he could feel it. One more pull should do it… He looked to Balthazar once more. The image was shuddering in and out of focus.

_'I'm sorry brother,'_ he thought.

He pulled the imaginary rope taught. The vision shattered.

The blurry surroundings of the sacred grounds quickly sharpened as he blinked. But the majority of the angel's gaze was occupied by the bright green eyes and unhindered smile plastered on Dean's face.

"Hey, there he is. Welcome back."

"You alright, Cas?" Sam called. Castiel peered over Dean's shoulder at the younger Winchester. He was currently subduing a shocked psychic. Wide dark eyes stared at the two men in front of him.

Cas let out a small huff. "I am fine."

Dean leveled a look saying he didn't believe Castiel's claim. Not that the angel expected him too; the group had been together for long enough to see when each other was lying, mostly. But Castiel eyed him right back warning not to push the subject filling his gaze. Truth be told he felt hollow. Like his former acceptance of the past had been ripped away letting the flood gates open. Pain rushed into the deep void in his chest overwhelming everything in its path. Years of solitude had done nothing but allow the angel to build a dam holding all of the guilt away, keeping it far from the forefront of his mind. The lie he'd actually dealt with his grief, one he'd told himself constantly until he believed it to be true, was no longer relevant.

But he built the damn once, he could do it again… right? Castiel wasn't so sure. The pieces could be put back together exactly like they were before, but the cracks would remain; forever a reminder of the damage done.

* * *

Dean was getting worried. Cas had barely spoken a word since returning from the sacred grounds. By the time the group of four had trekked back down the path, the fog had released its hold letting much needed sun light shine on the mountain top. The hunter had tried pointing things out to his friend as a distraction; interesting formations, streams, plants, but only received hums of acknowledgement. When they arrived back at the keep, Cas diverted to the stables leaving the brothers to hand the psychic to the guards and teach them sigils to contain him. Even after regrouping and setting off on the road once more, the distance and unfocused nature lingered in his blue eyes; not completely aware of his surroundings. It was like the man was trapped in his mind all over again.

"He's not okay," Sam stated plainly, finally breaking the unbearable silence as they rode along.

Dean glanced backwards to Cas. He gave no indication of hearing the brothers.

He turned back to Sam. "Would you be?"

"We both know the answer to that."

The elder flinched. "Sorry."

Sam gave a small reassuring smile. "It's fine. But that's why I'm so worried. It took me weeks to get back to some semblance of normal even with your and Dad's help."

"So you're saying he needs time off from hunting?"

"Maybe." Sam scrunched his brows together. "But I don't think Cas is one to sit idle for very long."

Dean couldn't really argue with that. There had to be a way to snap the guy out of it. "I mean, we could try and get him to talk. Figure out what that bastard showed him."

"No. _You_ should talk to him."

Dean almost laughed before seeing his brother's serious expression. "Wait, why me?"

The smallest hint of amusement shone in Sam's brown eyes; like he was trying to hide something funny. "Well, it's no secret you and Cas have… gotten to know each other fairly well."

The hunter gave a flat stare. "So have you."

"But not nearly as much as you." The amused glint vanished for a brief moment before returning. "It's been a while since I've seen you so openly protective. Especially with someone other than Dad or me."

"What are you…" Dean shook his head, "Never mind. That's not the point. You've always been better at the emotional crap."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Trust me. You have a better chance of getting through to him than anyone. So stop whining and go talk to him."

The elder glared for a moment before sighing. "Fine. But if this doesn't work, I get your next three desserts from home."

Before Sam could argue, Dean slowed his horse so Cas would catch up. He also watched as Sam actually sped up to put some distance between them. Dean would thank him for the privacy later. As he fell into step next to his friend and the hunter took a good look. He looked straight ahead, eyes mostly blank but filled with more exhaustion than Dean had ever saw come over the usually calm features. Once proud shoulders slumped and swayed with the horse's movements. Reins held loosely showed which creature was truly in control at the moment. And Dean's stomach twisted at the sight. He could only imagine the thoughts running through his head.

"Cas?"

Said man jumped, startled by Dean's call but quickly recovered. "Yes, Dean?"

"Are you okay?"

"I am…"

Dean held up a finger interrupting the income lie. "If you say you're 'fine', I will kick your ass right here and now."

Cas paused, brows creasing with confusion. The guy was most likely debating whether Dean was being serious or not. But then he dropped his head and sighed. "I suppose it wouldn't help trying to convince you otherwise.

Dean waited for him to continue somewhat patiently. He was dying to know what had shaken Cas so much and was itching to tell him to spill. Years ago that's exactly the behavior most would've expected from the hunter. But now? Now he knew better. Many close calls and losses haunted the man. Leading and being responsible for many lives during battle tended to leave a mark on one's mind. Logically it's easy to understand the benefits of sharing burdens with someone even if that person can't completely relate. But Dean had always been the type to use any excuse to keep all horrors hidden from view and was quick to anger if pushed too hard. So needless to say, he understood Cas's hesitancy. But his overall demeanor suggested the man wasn't going to elaborate on his own.

"Look," he sighed, "I know I'm not exactly a role model when it comes to talking about feelings. But you can't lock these things up. It'll eat you alive."

"Feelings do not have a separate physical form and therefore do not possess the capacity to consume human flesh."

Dean blinked stunned by the sudden comment. Cas continued to look ahead not realizing the oddity of his words.

"It's, uh, it's just an expression," he finally stammered.

Cas hummed distracted by his thoughts once more. This was getting out of hand. The guy was barely listening. There had to be more to this that Dean wasn't seeing.

Fueled by frustration and determination, Dean reached over, gripped Cas's reins and pulled. Both horses came to a halt. "Castiel, look at me."

Finally, blue eyes focused on the man beside him. Shock at the use of his full name was thoroughly mixed with confusion. Dean faltered under the stare, but held the gaze, matching the firm grip on both set of reins.

He allowed some of his worry to coat his voice. "What's going on with you?"

"Why do you care so much?"

There was no accusation in Cas's tone. Nothing defensive was directed towards Dean; just genuine puzzlement. Like the comprehension someone was actually concerned about him wasn't there at all. It was the hunter's turn to be confused.

"Why wouldn't I? You're my friend. After all we've been through, I thought you felt the same."

Wow that sounded very sappy.

Cass looked away almost in shame. "I do. You and Sam… you're one of the few friends I have. It's, um, been a long time since I've been able to say that."

It clicked. Not in a 'sudden discovery' kind of way but in a 'slowly connecting the dots' kind of way. Dean thought back to when they first met. How Cas was treated by his fellow soldiers. He was practically an outcast in a place where brotherhood was supposed to be strong. Having someone to rely on was something he'd never had before or the very least in years. Of course the guy was confused with Dean's concern. But how could the emotionally stunted hunter explain? Sam really was more qualified for this.

"Listen Cas. I don't know your life story and I'm not asking for it. But you've got to talk to someone about what's bothering you. It doesn't even have to be me or Sam but it has to be someone. Just know that we're not like those bastards in the Mills Battalion. Both of us are here for you no matter what."

_'Wow,'_ Dean thought, _'listening to Sam's lectures all these years has really turned me into a sap.'_ But he couldn't find it in him to regret his words. He silently watched as Cas searched his face for any falseness; any hint the hunter as lying. And Dean kept his expression open knowing he wouldn't find any.

Like a candle being blown out, an expressionless mask graced Cas's features. The Winchester felt his heart sink as the man spurred on his horse forcing Dean to relinquish his hold. The flame of hope growing in the hunter's chest fizzled out as he sighed in defeat. Sam should've been the one to talk to their ailing friend.

With a light kick, Dean urged his horse forward. It wasn't until Cas cleared his throat did the man realize the two were once again riding side by side. Normally, silence wasn't a big deal, but now it was just uncomfortable. The heaviness of it made the rider want the squirm in the saddle. Only sheer willpower kept him still.

"It was my brother," Cas said suddenly. "What the psychic showed me. It was my brother."

Dean whipped his head around but quickly averted his gaze. He didn't was to do anything to make the timid man stop now.

But Cas wasn't even paying him any mind. "He and I were in battle. We were losing… badly. No matter how hard we fought, the enemy just kept coming." He paused, taking a breath. "When the order to retreat back to H… the camp came, my brother and I were nearly overwhelmed. We both turned to flea and… and I made it to safety. He did not."

_I'm sorry_ didn't seem appropriate. What did one say to another after losing a sibling? Dean spotted the small moving figure in the distance unable to comprehend if Sam was no longer there to watch his back.

Noticing Cas was lost in thoughts again, Dean attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. "The psychic… he showed you your brother's death."

"A version of it, yes. It happened a long time ago, but I guess the pain of it never truly abated." He took another shuddering breath. "Every time I think about it, there's always thoughts of how I could've saved him."

That was something Dean understood. He always found himself asking _'What if'_ after failing to save an innocent. Sam and his father had lectured him on numerous occasions about it. Being on the other side was a bit strange, but the Winchester finally knew what to say.

"I'm not going to pretend to know your brother or what exactly happened. But I can tell you two were close and if he was anything like you, he went down swinging. I think he'd be proud of you for carrying on the fight."

As the corners of his mouth slightly rose skyward, the spark in Cas's eyes returned. The burden had not yet left his shoulders completely, but the weight was noticeable lighter.

"Thank you, Dean." He whispered.

Dean smiled back. "It's what I'm here for." He returned his eyes to the trail noting Sam was a significant distance away. "Come on. Let's catch up before Mr. Giant does something stupid."

"I do believe that is your area of expertise."

The hunter sputtered as Cas tried to hide the obvious smile. Before Dean could think of a retort, Cas urged his horse into a faster pace leaving him behind. A light chuckle passed his lips and Dean set off to chase his friend.


	7. Still Breathing

**Author's Notes: Sup? I wanted to address a comment by one of you lovely readers. I probably didn't make it clear (and that's my bad), but this story doesn't cover all the hunts the boys go on. At this point, they've been hunting together for... *checks notes*... I'd say close to 6-ish months. During that time, Sam has noticed things cluing him into the close bond Dean and Cas are forming (think like us fans watching the show finding "Destiel hints" in a lot of different moments). Sorry for not making that apparent.**

**Anyways, thank you all for your kind words and support. It means more than you can know. Please follow for notifications or leave a comment to let me know what you think. Things are starting to pick up and I'm excited for what's to come. **

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Still Breathing**

"May I ask you a question?"

Dean looked across the peaceful fire from sharpening his sword. Shadows casted by the dancing firelight made Cas's skin appear as pale as a ghost. And he should know; they've dealt with many of them in their travels. But his eyes still shone with an inner light that the hunter couldn't really describe even if he tried. There was just something about the soft gaze and piercing shade of blue he's come to admire in the past months.

And during that time, Dean's noticed a shift in the man's demeanor. He's still uptight most of the time, but also more relaxed. He jumps into conversations more giving input about a plan instead of readily agreeing. The guy didn't seem as detached as before. For whatever reason, Dean no longer got the feeling he would disappear any second. Although Cas seems to enjoy teaming up with Sam in teasing him, Dean couldn't bring himself to stay angry. Like that initial spark of annoyance is immediately doused with something building deep in his chest; something Dean has happily ignored for a while now.

He shook himself out of his thoughts hoping Cas hadn't noticed the staring. "Uh, sure. What's up?"

Cas endearingly tilted his head. "Why do you call me Cas?"

Dean hadn't really thought about it before. Sam had told him shortening complicated names was a thing of his. Castiel might fit that description, but there had to be something else.

"I'm not totally sure to be honest," he admitted. "I guess it's just easier to say, especially during a fight."

"I see. When I was part of the Mills Battalion, everyone called me Novak. Is that difficult as well?"

Dean chuckled. "Not even close, but I don't think those asshats called you that in a friendly way."

Cas looked away and nodded. "I understand their judgment of me was… degrading. I am sure it won't be the last time I cross paths with such negativity."

The look on his face made Dean's stomach drop. Just the utter _defeat_ cursing his being fueled a need to do something to lift the burden crushing his friend.

"Ah, forget them. You got me now." Dean blinked, surprised by his own words and quickly continued. "And Sam. Me and Sam. Both of us. I mean, you're practically family at this point."

That certainly got his attention. He whipped his head around, eyes wider than dinner plates. "Family? A while ago you said friends."

Dean looked away trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck. "Well, yeah. We've saved each other's asses so many times I figured you probably qualify."

Cas's expression hadn't changed so he added sheepishly, "Sorry. That was a lot. It's cool if you don't want…"

The man snapped out of his daze. "No. No, that's not it. It's just…" His eyes shone with gratefulness. "It's been a while since I've been part of a family."

And there it was. That something building within his chest swelled threatening to burst. Dean knew exactly what it was. Whenever this had happened, Dean had been able to ignore it until the cause had moved on. But not this time. This time he had an inkling it was here to stay no matter how much he tried to beat it down. And oh how he's tried. It's something he's been terrified of for most of his life. There were too many unknowns for him not to be.

Dean cleared his throat shifting uncomfortably on the ground. He picked up the whetstone once more. "You get some shut eye. I'll take first watch."

Cas gave his adorable head tilt again. "I always take first watch."

"Yeah, well I don't really feel like sleeping right now." The Winchester looked down trying not to squirm under Cas's intense gaze. "Besides, with Sam back home in Kripsing we have to be more careful."

"We've been doing alright so far."

Dean leveled him with a glare. "You've been taking more watches than me. This might be a simple information gathering assignment, but both of us need to be sharp."

"You don't need to worry about that. I am perfectly functional," Cas argued.

All Dean could do was sigh and hope he was convincing. "All I'm saying is that it can't be healthy with how little sleep you're getting. Sam yells at me all the time for pulling the same crap."

"It's fine, Dean."

"No, it's not. Will you please just…"

Time suddenly slowed. A feeling of numbness spread throughout Dean's body. His vision blurred as his tongue became too heavy to function. He thinks he hears his name being called. The person sounds worried. Despite the numbness there's a pressure somewhere on his torso. He looked down.

Oh. That's why.

The shaft of an arrow jutted outward from the left side of his chest. Blood was quickly soaking his shirt racing downwards. But all Dean felt was its warmth.

This should be hurting, right? Arrows to the chest normally hurt like hell.

_'Shock,'_ he idly identified, _'I'm in shock.'_

Breathing became difficult. Short and shallow, a bit straining.

He lopped his head to one side trying to make out anything in front of him. But his blurry vision prevented details from coming into focus. Shadows vaguely shaped like people danced around in the firelight. It was difficult to tell, but he was able to register a glint of silver.

There's a prickling sensation brushing against the back of his neck. It took a moment for Dean to realize the sensation was from the grassy floor of the woods. Wasn't he sitting up a few moments ago?

Dean's half-closed eyes fluttered as warm hands gently cupped both sides of his face. And in all the confusion and blurriness, Castiel's face came into perfect focus. A small cut across his forehead dripped blood into his wide, horror-stricken eyes. Dean didn't really understand why. It was only a small cut. Cas seemed to be shouting something at him, but for some odd reason, his mind wouldn't process the words.

Darkness began to creep into his vision as the warmth left his face and Cas slid out of his hazy gaze. Then came the tugging. Then came the pain. The worst pain he'd felt in his short life ripped throughout his entire body. He's pretty sure he gurgled a scream.

But as fast as it came, the pain disappeared. In its place; warmth. But a different type of warmth than standing next to a roaring fire or sleeping under a blanket. The best way to describe it was like a hug. The soothing transfer of one's body heat causing every tense muscle to relax while basking in the person's presence. Like his soul was washed clean bit by bit.

Dean opened his eyes to find a soft light coming from somewhere. And in that light, he was able to focus on Cas's face once more. The man was hunched over the arrow wound; eyes screw tight in concentration. Just before blackness overtook Dean completely to pull him into unconsciousness, two large shadows painted the trees behind Cas. And for a brief moment, Dean could've sworn the shadows took the shape of enormous feathery wings.

* * *

"…ou sure he's okay?"

"As far as I can tell he's perfectly healthy."

"I guess that's something, but… none of this makes any sense."

"I'm sure he'll fill in the blanks when he wakes up." _Pause._ "Hey! Don't you get all mopey on me. Your brother is fine."

_Sigh._ "Thanks Jess."

"No need to… look!"

"Dean? Hey Dean, it's Sam."

A familiar ceiling made of dark stone greeted Dean as he finally peeled his weary eyes open. The pleasantly soft bed and blankets was a welcome change after many nights sleeping on the forest floor. He had to fight the urge to fall back asleep. Instead he searched his old bedroom until finding the smiling faces of Sam and the medical assistant Jess.

Sam leaned forward in his chair next to the bed. "Welcome back Dean."

"Dean?" Jess called softly, "do you know where you are?"

He took one more sweep of the room squinting at the sunlight streaming in from the window. "Looks like I'm back in Kripsing," he croaked.

She smiled. "Good." Looking down at Sam with fondness in her gaze, she placed a gentle hand on the tall man's shoulder. "I'll give you two some privacy."

Dean observed as Sam watched her leave. The trance only broke when Dean chuckled after the door closed.

Sam glared. "Not a word."

"Whatever Loverboy." After sitting up more or less under his own power, Dean gratefully accepted a cup of water from Sam. "So, what happened?"

The corners of Sam's mouth pulled downward. "I was hoping you would tell me. A guard spotted you just outside the keep's gate about half a day ago. You were completely unconscious. Jess was called to treat your wounds but there wasn't much for her to do."

Dean rubbed the center of his chest trying feel anything different under his shirt. And there was nothing; no blemish, no pain, no bandages covering remnants of the event he knew wasn't a dream. Nothing to indicate an arrow had nearly pierced his heart.

But the action did, however, bring his attention to the soreness of his left shoulder of all places. Gingerly, Dean rolled up the short sleeve off of the tender skin. He hissed as fresh air breezed over the red scar. It was as if a handprint was burned into his skin, but that didn't make a lick of sense.

Finally he turned back to Sam who was patiently waiting the completion of the self-examination. "How long ago was the last mission? The one about demons in Sioux Falls."

"You left two weeks ago."

"Two weeks? But that would mean the attack was last night," he mumbled mostly to himself.

"Wait, you were attacked?"

Completely ignoring Sam, Dean felt his confusion multiply with every thought. "But that's not possible. No one can cover two weeks of foot travel through dense forest in a couple of hours."

"Dean, what attack?"

"Not even with horses. And wounds can't just heal overnight. Maybe if you're a witch, but not something that serious…"

"Dean…"

"But the timing works out. Cas and I…" the elder Winchester went completely ridged upon noticing a certain someone had yet to be seen.

He turned to Sam. "Where's Cas?"

His brother's face was grim. "I don't know. I asked around while you were out, but no one's seen anyone matching his description."

"Are you sure?"

Sam nodded.

Dean rubbed his face with both hands. "He's the only one who knows what's going on."

"I'm sorry. It's like he vanished into thin air."

"Damn it Castiel, you stupid son of a bitch. Where are you?" Dean cursed.

Sam blinked; eyes going wide and lips slightly parting. Dean would've thought the man was taken back by the outburst, but he knew better. It was the look of recognition when things finally began falling into place.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"Is…" – Sam swallowed – "is Cas short for Castiel?"

And the confusion grew ever more. "Yeah. Castiel Novak. I thought you knew that."

Sam leaned forward again with a serious look in his eyes. "I'm going to repeat my earlier question and I need you to give me as much detail as you can."

"Uh, okay?"

"What attack?"

Dean recounted the tale, as much as he remembered, which actually wasn't much in retrospect. By the time he finished, Sam was practically falling out of his chair.

"You saw wings." It wasn't a question.

"I mean I saw shadows that looked like wings," he confirmed.

"And an arrow wound that was nearly fatal is magically gone."

"Yeah."

"And you travelled an impossible distance in an instant."

"I guess."

"And now Cas has disappeared."

"Where are you going with this?"

Sam jumped up and began pacing the room. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god..."

"Mind sharing with the audience there Sammy?"

The comment went ignored as the frantic man started running fingers through his hair. Seeing yelling wasn't getting him anywhere, Dean threw off the blankets and practically leapt out of bed. It only took a few strides to catch his brother's shoulders halting his movements. He was met with wide brown eyes and was startled to find them filled with pure hope.

"Talk to me Sammy," he pleaded. "I'm in the dark here."

Sam smiled wide. "Dean… Castiel is the name of the Angel of Thursday."


	8. Loved by Nightmares

**Authors Notes: Sooo... how bout that cliffhanger, huh? *dodges tomato* Anyways, I hope Dean didn't get too OOC here, but I'm saying he's a bit more open with emotions in this story anyways. SO if you like if please fav and follow or leave a review! I'd love to hear from you. Enjoy.**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Loved by Nightmares**

Dean rubbed his eyes in a useless attempt to magically keep sleep at bay. The pages in front of him blurred making the words indecipherable. Sam had not-so-gently demanded the older brother to go to his room and get some actual sleep. He promised to fulfil the request after reading a few more pages… but that was hours ago.

The candle had all but disappeared barely illuminating the piles of parchment and numerous books decorating the small table. Shadows flickered along walls of the library eagerly waiting to consume rows of dusty books. A tray of untouched food sat on the floor much to the delight of small critters residing within the walls of the keep. It's a sight many have grown accustomed to in the past weeks hardly sending glances at the heir of the Eastlands pouring over lore for days at a time. But Dean didn't even acknowledge them. Whenever Sam or Lord Winchester himself came around to assist, the man only answered in clipped words before returning to his search. No one except his family truly knew the reason for such behavior and no one dare ask.

Even after weeks of the same thing day in and day out, the hunter was no closer to finding the elusive angel. It was still difficult to think of the person he'd traveled and hunted with for months as something other than human. Finding out a friend is one of the most powerful creatures in existence was a lot to wrap his head around.

At first, Dean's only interest was to find a way to track Castiel down and make sure he was okay. But ever so slowly he came across small pieces of lore pertaining to the Angel of Thursday. It was frustrating seeing how little there actually was; some even contradicting one another. Adding to the fire was a complete lack of angel tracking spells. Dean read every line of every spell book in Kripsing; not a single one containing information about angels in any way.

The hunter sighed placing his forehead on the book in front of him. Normally at this time of night Dean would pray, begging for Cas to come back unknown if the words even reached his friend. But tonight he was too exhausted to form a single thought. Green eyes involuntarily closed as the hunter finally succumbed to slumber.

It was the same dream nearly every night; the small clearing within the trees, the dying fire in the center, the arrow penetrating his chest, the worrying blue eyes hovering above him… the expanding shadow of great wings. But his time, Dean immediately knew something was different. The surroundings were the same but no fire lit the area. Yet somehow everything was perfectly clear as if the leaves no longer blocked the brightness of the moon. There was a sense of serenity in the air. Not a single branch seemed disturbed as the dreamer turned on his heel also noting the lack of arrows. To say he was utterly confused of the welcomed change was an understatement.

"Dean?"

The hunter whipped around so fast one would think his neck snapped. But the quiet, almost timid voice was the last thing he expected. And standing at the edge of the clearing was none other than Castiel. He was different than when Dean last saw him. His black hair was more unruly, sticking out at odd angles. The leather armor he received at the beginning of their travels was covered by an extremely dirty overcoat. The paleness of his complexion was as startling as the dark circles under his eyes. But hidden by all the dirt and grime, the spark in those blue eyes told Dean his caring friend was still there. The sudden ache in his chest told the Winchester just how much he missed the man.

_But he's more than just a man_ his mind countered. _And you are not awake._

Realization crashed upon Dean like stone. All relief of the sight turned to dust. Eyes burned as he squeezed them shut refusing to let tears fall.

"You're not real," he muttered. "This is just a dream."

No response came. The hunter opened his eyes to see Cas still standing there. A flash of hurt crossed the man's – the _angel's_ – face, but still he remained mute. Anger swelled within, building inside the hunter's chest. But it was more than just anger. It was fear, sadness, confusion, emptiness, pain, frustration; everything Dean had unintentionally bottled up since Cas disappeared.

He glared hard at the image of his friend. "You left us Cas. You left _me_ without so much as a goodbye. Do you realize how messed up that was? What it's doing to us? I'm worried about you. I mean you could be hurt or worse right now and there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing. And… and that _scares_ me Cas. I hate feeling helpless more than anything."

It was then Dean realized he'd been moving during his rant. Now Cas was directly in front of him. Without hesitation, the hunter grabbed the other and pulled him close. Surprised with how solid the image felt, he buried his head in the shorter man's shoulder locking his arms around his friend's neck. Cas tensed at the contact, but quickly relaxed and gently wrapped his own arms around Dean's back.

Both just stood there. An angel and a human embracing each other in silence. Dean felt himself trembled as tears began pooling into the rough overcoat. Weeks of pent up feelings drained out of him in one fell swoop. The bubble of emotion deflated leaving him more exhausted than before.

"I wasn't lying before," he finally choked out. "You and I… we're f-family. We don't leave each other behind. I don't care if you're a…"

The tension entering Cas's body made the emotional dreamer falter. But as quick as it came, it disappeared as he melted into the embrace once more. His voice was softer than a breeze. "You figured it out."

"Actually Sam did," Dean corrected. "Should've seen his face. And my dad's too. Not many things can shock him like that. Not that I get to tell you about it. The real you anyway."

It was then Cas released his hold. A pang of disappointment ran through Dean as he stepped back. He resisted the sudden urge to shiver at the absence of body heat as he processed the curious look sent his way.

"You still believe this is merely a dream?"

Dean was taken back by the question. "Of course it is. Right now you're just my imagination running wild. The real you is out there somewhere doing who knows what."

"Do you know what angels – what _I_ can do?"

"Sort of?" Dean thought back to all the information on angels he'd read recently. "I know you can heal people and disappear. I think you can move things with your mind too, but I'm not completely sure on that one."

Cas hummed in agreement. "Yes, all of those are true, but that's not the extent of my power." He noticeable hesitated before steeling the determination in his eyes. "Angels have power over the mind as well. Similar to psychics but graced with more control and strength. We can read thoughts, create pain and even infiltrate dreams."

The subconscious step backwards was as quick as the realization. Cas waited patiently as Dean processed the new discovery. This had to be a trick. The lore hadn't even implied angels could influence the mind. It was nothing more than a cry of desperation weighing heavily on his heart rejecting the notion he'd never see his friend again. But something deep in his gut said otherwise. The instinct the hunter had always trusted begged for him to believe Cas was really there. In all the years of fighting, that feeling as rarely brought misfortune. So Dean, against all logic, took the leap of faith.

But he had to hear it for himself. "So you're saying that… that you and I are…"

"That you and I are truly speaking to one another? Yes we are."

Dean practically melted with joy. Warmth spread throughout settling his frantic core for the first time in weeks. A small part of him was suspicious about the claim but the hunter was too happy to care. But the euphoria lasted mere seconds before panic took hold. "Wait, where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm… relatively alright."

That sent warning bells ringing in Dean's head. Things had to be bad if Cas admitted being anything less than 'fine' without provocation.

He shook his head ignoring the ringing. "Where are you?" he repeated.

"A village in the north." Sadness and anger contorted the angels' features into a scowl. "It's completely abandoned. I suspect a large scale demon possession occurred recently."

"If everyone's gone, there's nothing you can really do. Can you, um, can you come back then?"

It was a simple question. The same one Dean asked every night while in prayer. Sometimes it would be in anger. Other in frustration or pain. But being able to look Cas in the eyes, the hunter was timid; a quiet hope of seeing someone he cared about again, in person at least.

"No, I cannot."

And the hope was crushed with despair. The hard, unwavering look the angel was giving meant the plea would go unfulfilled. But the gaze softened as Cas noticed the hurt on Dean's face and quickly continued.

"Since I left, the possibility of being found has increased. A demon can tell what I am with one look now and that puts any humans nearby at risk. I refuse to bring that danger to you and your home by leading the damned to you."

"We can keep you safe. We got your back no matter what, remember?"

Cas shook his head. "You don't understand. If Azazel learns my location, he won't send just a few demons. All of Hell will be sent to capture me."

"I DON'T CARE!"

Dean felt tears prick at his eyes threateningly. Never in all his years did he feel so close to the edge. The chasm beyond waiting to embrace him with open arms and drown its victim within a nightmare. And it wasn't until now the hunter realized he'd been steadily crawling towards it for weeks.

The shout rendered the angel mute. Shock flashed across his face as he studied the man in front of him. He's pretty sure this is the most emotional he's been since… well he's honestly couldn't remember. He took a few deep breaths to calm his frantic mind, but his voice still shook. "We need you Cas. I need you."

Staring deep into the sky-filled eyes, it was clear the moment a decision was made. And Dean's heart sank.

"I'm sorry. I'm not coming back."

Before he could even react, the surroundings of the dream rumbled. Dean watched as the color drained from Cas's face and his image began to flicker.

"Dean…"

And the dream shattered.

* * *

Cas gritted his teeth as his connection with Dean broke. Dust fell from the rafters and the ground continued to shake. He'd taken refuge in what used to be the village tavern. Now the half empty plates and cups were nothing more than a memorial to those now trapped within their own minds. It's not the first abandoned town he's hidden in since running. Honestly the angel preferred them; less chance of rogue demons spotting celestial power within a vessel. Normally it wouldn't be an issue. The enochian sigil hanging around his neck ensured it.

Yet something happened that fateful night. When an arrow appeared in Dean's chest, Cas was rendered temporarily frozen though shouts from the attackers spurred the angel into action and he fended them off. Luckily, they were merely human thieves, not demons like he feared. Unluckily, he refused to kill them outright settling for the more difficult task of knocking them unconscious. It wasn't until after healing his friend he notice the lack of power humming from the sigil. At closer inspection, a crack down the center made itself known. A thief had damaged it at some point during the fight. Without protection the angel was exposed. So he ran. Flying Dean to safety and getting as far away as possible.

Castiel had believed he could avoid every demon until the sigil was at least fixed. But the shaking building said otherwise. He could easily sense the army surrounding the village; they must've done so while he was speaking with Dean.

He silently berated himself for getting distracted but couldn't truly regret the conversation. Dean had prayed every night and Cas would listen without fail. But when he sensed the other fall unconscious without doing so, he couldn't help checking up on his friend.

Shaking his head, the angel felt the cool blade slip into his hand as multiple escape plans were created and tossed aside. Flying was out of the question. Demons were just as fast, so a fight was unavoidable. Simply smiting many once used too much energy. His only advantage was they had to capture him alive while he, unlike with the thieves, was free to kill. And without a single human soul, most of Heaven's power was at his disposal once more. But it would only do so much. Castiel knew firsthand how a lone angle fared against an army of demons.

Stepping out into the town square, the early signs of dawn began lighting the sky. The air stilled as the world held its breath. Stars disappeared and Castiel's hope went with them. Blank expressions and black eyes filled the square spilling into roads and out of sight. All stood as still as shadows unmoved by the angelic glare. Some wore armor containing symbols of houses the bodies had once served. Most had tattered everyday clothing of the innocent men and women who'd fallen to the war. Castiel couldn't decide whether the absence of possessed children was a good sign or not.

But the angel's gaze was quickly drawn to one particular demon. The dark hair and body was new, but the demonic face beneath was easily recognizable.

She stepped forward, smirking upon noticing the stare. "Hey Castiel. Long time. You don't pop in, you don't write. Makes a girl feel unappreciated ."

"Meg."

Her eyes lit up. "Look at that. He remembers me."

"Thought you were dead." His voice and expression might have been cold and controlled, but Cas's mind was racing. Searching for possibilities of how Meg was standing before him. He had stabbed her with an angel blade nearly a century ago after all.

"Almost Feathers. But us demons can be surprisingly resilient when we want to be."

"How'd you find me?"

Meg waved her hand. "Azazel said something about feeling a surge of celestial energy or whatever. Pointed us in the right direction and we picked up your trail a few weeks ago. Honestly I thought it would be more of a challenge."

"Life is full of disappointment."

"For you maybe." The demon flashed a smile filled with nothing but malice. "But right now it seems God's on my side."

The angel's grip on his weapon tightened. He could practically hear one of his siblings berating him about attacking in anger. That's when mistakes are made. Demons knew this of course, exploiting it in expert fashion. But the angel would not take the bait.

Mostly.

"You don't know the feeling of having God on your side."

Meg gave a curious, almost impressed look. "You're much more vocal since the last time we met. The Castiel I remember would never lower himself to such levels. What happened? Someone finally remove that stick from your ass?"

_'No, Dean Winchester happened'_ he thought. Even though their time together was relatively short in comparison, there was no denying the influence the human had on the angel. The biggest one was unintentional on the hunter's part. For years, the celestial wandered the Earth. Constantly in motion, never allowing connections to others around him to form. He thought he was content with being alone. But Dean had showed him otherwise. And he'd never see those intriguing green eyes again.

Pushing thoughts aside, Cas glared at the demons in front of him. "So what happens now? You and I both know your Master needs me alive and I'm not going with you willingly."

"True, but you have to admit things don't look well for you."

"I've fought an army before."

"Didn't you lose that battle?"

"Not where it counted and there were more of you then."

The demon scanned the rows of bodies behind her. All were waiting for the carnage to begin with surprising patience. Castiel doubted it would last much longer though.

"Yeah," Meg said almost wistfully. "I suppose I could use the army of highly motivated demons. You have a chance of killing all of us and escaping. We have just as much chance of defeating you. Honestly I couldn't say how a fight would turn out."

She looked into the angel's eyes. Something in the gaze and her words drove the warning bells into a high pitch. She spoke as if a fight wasn't going to occur. "But Azazel doesn't take chances."

On cue, Cas counted four demons stepping away from various walls surrounding the town square… and his heart dropped. Previously hidden sigils had been painted in blood. The angel instinctively stepped back in a futile attempt to escape the easily recognizable sigil. As one, the demons slammed a hand on the walls and lines of blood blazed to life.

The effect was immediate. Pain ripped throughout as every muscle in the angel's body coiled. Only a gasp passed his lips before being rendered immobile. The gentle hum of his grace grew to a roar as it fought against the invading power. Each time the energies collided, it felt as if a star was exploding within. It didn't take long for the war to end as his grace collapsed inward in retreat. Fire filled his veins as the soft _thud_ of his angel blade falling to the dirt reached his ears. Black spots danced in his fading vision, but the glee painted on the demons' faces were still clear as day. A jolt of pain in his shoulder startled Castiel. It wasn't until Meg crouched over him did he realized he was no longer standing.

She sneered at his discomfort. Even with darkness nearly filling his gaze, Cas swore there was a hint of disappointment. "Sweet dreams angel."

And the world fell into nothing.


	9. Limit of Darkness

**Author's Notes: Welcome back everyone! Hope you liked the last chapter because, man, that was hard to write. This one went a bit smoother. Anyways, please follow and fav for update notifications and please review. I genuinely want to know what you guys think. Enjoy :)**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Limit of Darkness**

Dean could feel the annoyance in the two other Winchesters grow by the minute. The family had locked themselves in Lord Wincher's private study with strict orders not to be disturbed. Thankfully the Kripsing's staff knew better than to disobey. They were currently studying a map of the northern regions of the kingdom. Well, Sam and their father were, Dean was pacing from one wall to the other replaying his late night conversation with Cas.

The usually calm hunter was in near hysterics after the connection ended abruptly. The absolute terror in those blue eyes right before would be forever etched in his mind. Something happened to cause the break; something bad and the worry for his friend's safety had increased ten-fold.

"Dean," his father called. His tone was gentle, yet the frustration prominent. "If you don't stop pacing, I will tie you to a chair."

The hunter planted his feet. Sam shot him an amused look but worry leaked though as well.

Sighing, Dean claimed a chair at the large wooden desk still wary of his father's not-so-idle threat. "We're not getting anywhere."

Sam snorted. "You might not be, but we've been working while you've been ruining the floors."

"So you've found something."

"Possibly," John answered. "It's thin. Just a fool's hope really but…"

"But it could be something."

The elder nodded. "Castiel said he was north. That we know for certain. He also said the village was recently abandoned most likely from demon possession, correct?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. A small piece of hope sparked within his chest. The logical voice in the back of his mind warned of the danger of unfounded hope. Yet the desperate hunter couldn't find it within himself to care.

"Sam found recent reports dating only a few week back at most," his father continued. "All claim small villages and towns in the north were found completely abandoned with traces of sulfur left behind."

"But that's nothing new," Dean argued. "Reports like that have been coming in for years. Besides Cas said the possession was probably extremely recent. We might not have heard of that town yet."

Sam stepped forward placing four different said documents on the desk. "That's what we thought at first too. So we looked at the map and found something interesting." He pointed out the locations the reports originated from. "The first one was here. It was one of those places that's pretty isolated and takes weeks to travel to and from anywhere. Nothing special about it." He moved his finger east with a slight southward direction. "The next one happened here. Again nothing special. However the last two reveal the pattern." Sure enough, Dean followed as his brother traced a near straight line connecting all four towns.

"The demons were, or are, headed somewhere collecting bodies along the way."

Sam nodded. "Exactly. And unless something's changed, the next village in their path is Parma."

"However," their father injected, "we don't know if this has anything to do the Castiel. Hell could just be growing their forces."

"But is the best we've got," Sam finished.

Dean located Parma on the map. It was actually close to the border of the Eastlands. Pushing themselves, a couple riders could get there from Kripsing within a week. "Sam and I can leave tomorrow morning and check it out."

Lord Winchester raised an eyebrow. "Just the two of you? There could be an army waiting."

"More people will slow us down," the hunter reasoned. "Besides, the three of us are the only humans in the world who know the truth about Castiel. We need to keep it that way."

The younger placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and smiled. "I'm with Dean on this one."

John looked back and forth between his two hard-headed, stubborn sons. Dean could see the protest coming from a mile away. He was surprised at the defeated sigh his father gave.

"I don't like the idea of you two going alone… but that doesn't matter. Castiel is a living angel. He's the only one capable of ending this war. If the demons get a hold of him…"

There was no need to finish the statement. The demons wanted Cas for something. They had no idea what but if Hell succeeded, humanity wouldn't last very long.

* * *

Dirt crunched beneath boots, the sound echoing amongst the silence of the village. Remnants of those who once lived in Parma were scattered all around eagerly waiting. Doors hung open inviting any passerby's inside. A small fruit stand placed on the side of the road held something rotten beyond recognition.

The sun beat down and all Dean felt was the chill. But this wasn't a chill that could be chased away by a fire; it was settled deep in his core where dread had been locked down tight. The hunter was doing his best to ignore it. Now was not the time to be distracted.

Currently, he was peeking through a window observing three demons ravaging the village tavern. One poked at the fly-covered food at one of the tables. The other two were placing various bottles of alcohol on the bar while endlessly bickering.

Dean looked to Sam and nodded. His brother picked up a rock from his spot on the other side of the tavern door frame. With scary accuracy, the rock flew through the air and shattered a window on the other side of the town square.

"What was that?" a muffled voice form inside asked.

"Do I look like I'm outside?" the second retorted clearly annoyed.

"One of these days your mouth is going to get you killed."

"Nah, my quick wit is part of my charm."

"How can your wit be quick when it doesn't even exist?"

"Enough!" the final demon yelled. "I can't stand your arguing anymore. Both of you go see what that noise was. I need some silence."

Footsteps and grumbling grew in volume. Both brothers tensed pressing tight against the wall as if to become shadows themselves.

The door opened.

They held their breath.

One demon stepped out none the wiser of the lurking death. The second followed grumblings under his breath. As one, the hunters moved. Sam lunged for the first one as Dean snaked a hand over the other's mouth. In one fluid motion, the demon was pulled close to his attacker's chest and out of sight of the open door. He most likely never registered what was happening before a demon blade entered his back. Orange light flickered and he went limp. Dean carefully guided the empty meatsuit to the ground. He looked over seeing Sam stand from the demon at his feet. The whole ordeal took mere seconds without a single sound.

Dean silently apologized to the human souls now entering the afterlife and focused on the final demon inside. Again with stealth as an ally, the brother entered the tavern.

Sam immediately knelt slipping off his pack as Dean drew closer to their target. The demon's back was to the door as he studied the bottles his comrades had gathered. Flipping his blade downward, the hunter stalked like a lion would its prey. And just his luck, one wooden board creaked under his weight.

Faster than a blink, the demon turned around locating the human instantly. With a flick of a wrist, Dean went tumbling to the side breaking a table as he came crashing down. He grunted, quickly scrambling to his feet. The demon charged thankfully ignoring the other human in the room.

"You damn hunters," he snarled.

Said hunter easily sidestepped the wild grab. As the demon barreled past, Dean gripped one of his arms and spun. Already being off balance, the demon could do nothing as the spin ended with his midsection slamming into the bar as Dean let go. The demon was still wheezing when he blindly connected a backhand to the hunter's cheek. A dull pounding resonated from the strength of the hit and Dean stumbled back a few paces.

_'That's gonna leave a mark,'_ he thought.

Before he could recover, the demon gave a shout and lunged again. This time Dean stood fast allowing the hit. By pure determination alone was he able to keep his feet planted. The force of the hit pushed all air from his lungs, but still he stood his ground.

"Dean," Sam called. If he hadn't known better, Dean would've thought his brother's shout was one of alarm and worry. However, that was not the case.

In response, the hunter shifted his weight allowing the demon to push him backwards. It was slow at first but quickly gain speed. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticing how close the pair was getting to the front door of the tavern. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his body breaking the demon's hold around his waist. Quickly, the hunter turned sideways and the demon, once more, slid by falling to the ground in the process.

Dean watched unflinching as the demon rose, wild rage filling his pure black eyes.

"You're dead meat," he threatened. Apparently, the only thing the creature was mentally capable of was charging an opponent. But this time was different. This time he managed a couple steps before striking an invisible barrier. It didn't take long before his eyes widened as he looked down. There on the wooden floor of the tavern was a freshly painted devil's trap.

Sam wandered next to his brother. The demon's eyes snapped to the second hunter he hadn't noticed until now. He glared as if a look alone could set a man to flame.

"Man I love fast-drying paint. Those scholars back home really out did themselves this time." He took a moment to examine his older brother. "You okay?"

Dean reached up and winced at the tenderness of his cheek. "I'll live. Nice work."

The younger beamed. He might have been an adult but Sam had always wanted to please those around him; especially his family. A split second later a composed mask fell into place as both Winchesters turned their attention to their seething captive.

Dean crossed his arms. "Look, here's how this is going to work. We ask questions, you answer them. Simple."

"Go to hell," the demon spat.

The hunter smirked. "After you. Sam?"

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"

"Wait, you can't."

"…omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…"

"No, stop!"

"…omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte…"

"Sto—ACK!"

The demon writhed in pain. Falling to one knee, he head snapped every-which-way like bursts of lightning. Sam continued the exorcism to nearly the end.

"…ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te…"

"N…no! Al… Alist…tair!"

"Sam wait."

As soon as the hunter stopped speaking, pain left the demon's face as he sagged with relief. Heavy breathing filled the silence.

"What about Alistair?" Dean demanded. Every same person on Earth knew of Hell's head torturer.

"If you send me back to Hell, I'll be punished for being exorcised."

Sam snorted. "Not our problem."

"You don't understand," he pleaded. "Alistair's spent millennia perfecting his craft. Not a single soul has withstood his hand. I… I'd rather die than go through that."

The words themselves were not surprising. Alistair's reputation wasn't known by accident. But the fact a demon had openly expressed fear about the mere possibility of coming under the torturer's knife left the brothers perplexed to say the least.

"Answer our questions and we'll let you go," Sam offered. Dean cast a wary glance but said nothing.

The demon shook his head. "I talk, no matter what I give you, and I end up in the same place; with Alistair."

So the hunters and a demon were, for lack of a better term, at a crossroads. Either the demon stays silent and gets sent back to Hell or he talks and gets released. Both lead him somewhere he _really_ didn't want to be.

An idea quickly began to form; one Dean preferred over Sam's. "There a third option here."

Demon and human gave puzzled looks. Blackeyes revealed he didn't quit believe the statement. "What do you mean?"

"Same deal as before except if you tell us what we want to know," he held up his demon blade, "we'll kill you like your buddies outside. Alistair can't torture you if you're dead."

"Think of it as mercy," Sam suggested immediately jumping on board.

The demon looked down as indecision took over. It was an unorthodox situation for sure. But he said himself he'd rather die. Finally he sighed. "Fine. I'll answer your questions and you kill me. Deal?"

"Deal."

Dean wasted no time. "Why are you in Parma?"

"We were ordered to stay behind and kill any who wandered into town for as long as we could."

"Why?"

"Not exactly told outright, but my guess is my superiors didn't want people reporting the place was abandoned just yet."

"How many were you traveling with before?"

"Hundreds."

"Why did demons come to Parma in the first place?"

It was then the demon hesitated. "We, uh, we were tracking something across the northern regions."

"'Were' tracking," Sam noted.

"We found it here."

Dean silently prayed to who or whatever could listen the next answer was what he hoped. "What were you tracking?"

Their captive actually chuckled. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me, " he growled.

Swallowing hard, the demon responded, "An angel. We were tracking the last angel alive."


	10. Warrior of Despair

**Author's Notes: What's this... a quick update? Am I feeling alright? I'm hoping to keep the chapters coming at a much faster pace from now on and get the rest of this story posted. Guess I'm just super excited for what's coming *cue maniacal laughter*. Follow for update notifications and please review. I truly want to know what you guys think. Anyways, enjoy :)**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Warrior of Despair**

"An angel. We were tracking the last angel alive."

The storm of emotions returned full force. Elation of being on the right track. Frustration of being so close to finding Cas yet so far. Dread the demons beat them to it. Terror of what his friend could be going through.

"Dean."

He looked to his brother barely able to focus. His mind raced with images of a bloodied and broken body with dull blue eyes staring at nothing.

"Dean," Sam tried again. That's when the elder noticed the clear worry branded on his brother's face. All he could do was nod in acknowledgement unable to find words.

Seeing this, the other hunter returned his attention to the confused demon. "What happened after you found the angel."

He shrugged. "It was pretty disappointing if you ask me. Our commander talked to him; insults were traded, threats were made, the usual from back in the day. But she had a plan with these special enochian sigils to weaken the angel. Worked like a charm."

"So you've captured him."

"Yeah. Everyone else left after that."

"Where did they take him?"

"Hell if I know."

Dean erupted. "Where is Castiel?!"

For over a month the human watched as small pieces of his resolve chipped away. Tiny fissures branching out and he was helpless to stop it. But now it was fully cracked.

The demon winced at the outburst. "Honestly I don't know. I'm just a soldier, very low level."

"Take your best guess."

He swallowed, brows furrowing in thought. "There's a large encampment south of here. Smack in the middle of the Augien Pains. Hard to miss. It's where Alistair is if he's not in Hell."

The implications were clear. Hell needed Cas for something and Dean knew the angel would never do as they asked. Not easily anyways. Only one creature in existence had a chance of succeeding.

"The Augien Plains are a fifteen day ride from here," Sam pointed out. "If he's there or not, we could be too late."

"I don't see any other options," Dean reminded. "We'll have to risk it." A new spark of flames entered green irises. "One way or another, Cas is coming home."

* * *

Sam had been worried for a long time now. Worried for the Eastlands under constant demonic attack. Worried for Cas in the hands of those wishing to cause him harm. But above all else, Sam was worried for his brother.

Ever since a certain angel disappeared, the elder Winchester had been all over the place. One moment he's unfocused and unaware of what's around him; barely responding when called. But then the coin would flip. A constant tornado of emotions upsetting foundations and threatening all in the way. Anger, sorrow, frustration, fear all cycling through one right after the other endlessly. In all the years of fighting and survival, Sam had never witnessed such a thing from anyone, much less his brother. He'd gone to their father about his concerns before leaving for Parma. The man reassured Dean would sort things out soon enough. Sam was beginning to doubt his father's beliefs.

For the past two days, the brothers had ridden along in near silence. Ironically enough, the elder's behavior reminded Sam of Cas after battling the psychic all those months ago. And now the roles were sort of reversed and Sam was the one with no idea what to say. First things first, he needed to get his attention… somehow.

"Dean?"

"Hmm," he answered still blankly staring on the road ahead.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

Same thing; no eye contact. The younger put a bit more assertiveness in his voice. Honestly, he was trying to imitate the stern tone their father used at times.

"Dean."

Immediately green eyes snapped to meet brown ones. "What?"

"Are you ever going to talk to me? I mean the quiet's been nice, but this is getting ridiculous." Sam meant it to sound as teasing, but knew he failed when Dean averted his gaze. He barely caught the mumbled 'Sorry'.

Sam shook his head. "You don't have to apologize. I'm just wondering what's going on." He had an inkling but Dean needed to say it out loud. But once again the man was unfocused.

With a sigh, Sam tried a different approach letting the very real frustrating slip through. "If you don't talk to me, I'm tying you to a tree and finishing the mission without you."

Well that certainly worked. The hurt and betrayal was painfully clear. "You… you wouldn't."

"Don't be so sure."

"You can't finish this by yourself."

"I'd stop by Sioux Falls," Sam responded. "Uncle Bobby would help." He felt bad for doing this but there was no other way.

"But… but I have to go."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. I have to save him."

"Others can do it just fine."

"You don't understand. It has to be me."

"Why?"

"Because it's my fault he was captured!"

There it was. The core reason for all the struggling hunter's actions for the past weeks. Sam had gotten the basics of what happened when Dean was wounded and instantly knew his thought process. Unfortunately, the guy had never been very good at deciphering these things. And by the surprised look on his face, the realization of the guilt slowly eating him alive was quite the revelation.

Sam softened his gaze. "You know that's not true."

Dean wouldn't meet his eyes but they were no longer miles away. "If I had been paying attention, I could've avoided the arrow. Then Cas wouldn't have had to heal me and reveal himself. Then he wouldn't have run off on his own and…"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, "that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

The look of absolute bewilderment was almost amusing, but he quickly continued. "I want you to look me in the eye and tell me there was a way to not be shot."

The elder looked down again mouth gaping like a fish. "I, uh…"

"Exactly. And Cas healed you because he wanted to. We've meet plenty of people along the road that he could've healed but didn't. And I know for a fact he doesn't blame you either. He never has since you met and I doubt he does now. So why are you allowing yourself to feel guilty?"

They rode in silence for a while after that. Sam had just pushed the limit. Honestly, he didn't know if Dean would see his point of view. But he'd tried. That's what mattered. If Sam couldn't pull him out of the downward spiral no one could.

The sun was almost touching the tops of the trees before Dean softly spoke again. "Thanks, Sam."

The younger studied his brother and was ecstatic to find something had changed. Storm clouds still hung like a heavy shroud, but the tornado was gone. Wind still blew but at a much more manageable speed.

"You care for him, don't you? Like really care for him." Sam wasn't quite sure what to expect as an answer. A scoff, maybe a nervous laugh. Even flat out denial wouldn't be out of character. Maybe it was the fact he wasn't teasing his brother this time or the elder couldn't think of an excuse if the complete exhaustion shadowing his face was anything to go by. But Sam was thrilling when the corners of Dean's mouth pulled skywards. It was the smallest of smiles, but it was the first one in weeks.

He spoke as softly as a breeze like never heard before. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do."

Sam felt a full blown smile spread across his face but quickly fade turning serious. "We'll get him back."

"Thanks Sammy."

"You going to be okay? I have to be able to count on you."

"You can always count on me."

No matter what happened, no matter what they went through, Sam would never doubt that.

* * *

The encampment was huge; the largest they'd ever seen and that was saying a lot. Multiple tents of various sizes and colors were pitched in a seemingly random way with no noticeable pattern to the madness. Even from a slightly elevated viewpoint, peering over thick, tall grass an alarming amount of demons mulled in the setting sun about trampling the foliage flat. No doubt more reside within the tents as well. There had to be hundreds if not thousands of them.

For years, commanders and scholars alike theorized Hell had set up a city-like place to coordinate attacks. But no one could find it. Most likely any who wandered too close fell into Hell's grasp and were never heard from again.

But the Winchesters were no ordinary people; they were hunters. Trained from a young age to fight against creatures of the night by the best in the world. They'd made a name for themselves beyond their father's legacy in a relatively short time. And now they were on a mission; one they refused to give up without a fight.

Since his talk with Sam, Dean had felt lighter than he had in weeks. Not everything was sorted and wouldn't be for a while, but now he was sharp. He was focused and ready to fight for those he cared for. And right now, he was focused on one particular tent.

"It'll take us forever to find him," Sam whispered. They might've been quite a bit away, but demons had frustratingly good hearing.

"Maybe not." Dean pointed to the tent that had caught his attention. "See how many guards there are? More than any other spot. And by the way they're acting, they're more worried about keeping something in, not other demons out."

Sam still didn't look convinced. "It could be another prisoner."

"And look. When the wind is strong enough, you can see light from inside. None of the others have that."

"Alright," Sam sighed. "I trust your judgement, but we come back here and make a plan if he's not in that one. Deal?"

"Deal."

As silent as shadows, the brothers crept closer to the enemy using the grass as cover. Both kept their ears sharp for anything out of the ordinary; well ordinary for a demonic army camp. They halted when the grass suddenly stopped standing tall and laid flat from foot falls. A ten foot gap separated the hunters from their target. As darkness blanketed the plains, the dancing light from the tent became even more apparent.

Dean's heart pounded erratically, but his breath was carefully steady. They waited, impatiently, but they waited for the right moment. The overall noise emanating from the encampment would cover any quiet sound the hunters made but that wouldn't matter if they were spotted. So there they sat, hiding in tall, itchy grass trying not to let panic-fueled thoughts fester.

_'What if we're too late?'_ his mind supplied. He did his best to ignore it.

Finally, _finally,_ a miracle from on high occurred. Loud commotion erupted from somewhere in the encampment. Some type of argument. But Dean wasn't paying attention to the words. Instead he watched as all the guards turned and walked to the other side of the tent and out of sight. Without hesitation, the hunter dashed into the open with Sam chasing his heels. Drawing a knife, he knelt at the tent and sliced upwards creating a nice hole in the fabric. He slipped inside and Sam quickly followed.

A lump formed in Dean's throat as he took in the scene in front of him. A ring of gentle flames licked the air shinning on the various sigils painted on the walls of the tent. Thinking back to one late night of researching angels, Dean theorized they were staring at holy fire. And trapped inside the ring lying on his back unmoving on dried brown grass was the last angel of Heaven.

Castiel was strangely unbound and unconscious to the world. Considering the bruises and dried blood covering his bare torso, it was a small mercy in a place of torment.

Repressing panic and an angry growl, Dean rushed to the flames and took off his jacket. The piece of clothing wouldn't burn straight away if historical records were accurate. It would give him enough time to grab his angel and get out before the holy fire touched Cas. Heat radiated into the soles of his feet as the hunter smothered a section of the ring and stepped through. No time to worry about Cas's shallow, ragged breaths, Dean gently pulled him onto his shoulders locking his grip on an arm and leg. The gasp of pain pulled at the hunter's heart. Careful to keep the angel away from the fire, Dean crossed the ring again and turned to watch his jacket burn to nothing as the hole enclosed.

Out of the corner of his eye, the elder noticed his brother pick up Cas's discarded armor and dirty coat from the ground. Taking the lead, Sam peered out the tear in the tent Dean had made. Seeing it was still clear, he squeezed through holding the fabric open for his brother and his precious package. Faster than lightning, two sets of boots raced into the grass and away from the encampment. Listening, neither brother heard any indications of demonic pursuit.

They had a while before getting back to the horses but Dean felt the elation of victory and utter relief fill his veins. They'd done it. They'd save Cas. Dean couldn't keep the wide smile away as the three of them disappeared into the night.


	11. The Damned and The Broken

**Author's Notes: OMG FINALLY! I wrote the second half of this chapter _ages_ ago and have been dying to share it. Things have been rough with work and home (nothing horrible don't worry) so being able to do this feels good. With the shitstorm the world's in right now hopefully I can bring some joy to you lovely people. **

**Real quick, I know the rescue mission seemed a bit too easy for the boys. The way I'm looking at it is a successful stealth mission (roll that nat 20) adds a whole new level of badass. Besides I didn't think a fight was needed at that point in the story. Again I respect what you guys think, but I wanted to address it since more than one person commented on it.**

**As always please fav and follow for update notifications and please review. I want to know what you guys think. Stay safe and healthy!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Damned and The Broken**

Much to his surprise, pain was not the first thing he became aware of. Instead of the familiar dull ache, pleasant warmth spread throughout his body chasing away the chill of his holy fire prison. Humans and demons only felt heat from the special flames; angels on the other hand felt a coldness that promised only unpleasantness and death.

But now that was gone… and so was the noise. Wherever he was being held never ceased being loud with demonic activity. The angel's sensitive ears caught many conversations, most petty arguments though. But now only muffled foot falls and quiet, indecipherable words reached him.

He wanted to sit up, figure out where the demons had moved him, but for some reason his body mostly refused to respect his wishes. Instead, he focused on moving his fingers and was relieved he could. His left weakly gripped what felt like a blanket. But that didn't make sense. Demons would never be so gracious. That's when he noticed a pressure encompassing his right hand. Gentle squeezing revealed it was another hand; warm and callused. Instantly the mysterious hand squeezed back as he heard its owner shift beside the bed he was on.

"Cas?"

The angel melted with relief. He knew that voice. The low, soothing rumble loosened every last bit of tension held within his vessel. He was with Dean. And Dean meant safety. A muttled voice in his head murmured a warning this could be trick, but he didn't believe so. No demon knew about his connection to the hunter.

Desperately he tried to open his eyes. But yet again his body remained stubbornly still. Attempting to speak yielded the same result. All he seemed capable at the moment was ever so slight squeezing his fingers.

Dean dragged his thumb across the back of Cas's hand in comforting fashion. "It's okay Cas. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you. Not while I'm around."

He appreciated the words, truly, but right now he was more interested in connecting his brain to his vessel. Perhaps he still had a lingering injury. Allowing his grace to flow, the angel found that wasn't the case. So the struggle continued. The hunter still muttered things from time to time not realizing Cas was actually awake to hear them.

Then his leg twitched and knees began to bend. Mentally smirking in triumph, he squeezed Dean's hand again much harder than he was able to a few moments prior.

"Cas?" Dean called again.

He felt his brows stitch together in concentration as each muscle slowly came to life. All the while keeping his hunter's hand gripped tight.

"You can do it Cas. You almost have it."

Finally, his eyes fluttered open. The dark stone of the ceiling indicated, yes, he was actually in Kripsing. He'd never enjoyed enclosed spaces, cut off from the world, but compared to his previous location, he'd take the keep any day.

Blue irises searched for the man he was hungry to see. Dean's smile greeting him. The hunter looked exhausted; deep purple circles under half lidded eyes, pale skin. Definitely worse than when they spoke last in that dream.

Cas blinked slowly taking a deep breath. "You look terrible."

Wow, his voice was weak. It made sense though. He refused to make a sound while in the hands of demons so it's been a while since he spoke.

Dean raised a brow, eyes shining bright. "Hello to you too."

"Hello Dean," the angel huffed. "How long have I been out?"

"About ten days give or take. You were unconscious when we found you and had to drag you back here."

"I see. And exactly how did you find me?"

The hunter explained the trip to Parma, interrogating a demon and sneaking into the encampment. Honestly, Castiel found it impressive. Not many humans could've pulled off what the Winchesters had and the angel was grateful beyond measure.

"They chased after us for a while. Nearly caught us twice, but we lost them about a day before crossing back into the Eastlands."

"Thank you," he said after the story was finished.

Dean just shrugged. "You would've done the same for us. In all honesty, the whole thing felt a little too easy. Sam and I were worried they let us take you for a while, but something would've happened by now if that were the case. If the demons had a plan involving you being rescued, they'd be smart to do it while you were still recovering which would be a very small window. Which looks like it's nearly closed." He visibly swallowed. "So… angel, huh?"

Rather than speak, Castiel stared unblinking into the green gaze. Deciding it wouldn't drain him too much, the angel let his grace spark underneath his skin and gently flow from his hand to the hunter's. It took longer than usual, but the circles under Dean's eyes faded into nothing as color returned to his complexion. He blinked rapidly as his energy level rose and alertness return.

Cas sighed deeply as his power settled back to its normal hum. He felt slightly more tired, but not as much as expected.

Dean slipped his hand from Cas's grip. "What did you… what was that?"

"Simply put, I healed your exhaustion."

"What? No!"

Now it was Cas's turn to be confused. But confusion quickly turned to guilt. "I apologize. I should not have done that without asking permission."

The hunter shook his head. "No, that's not it. I don't want you wasting your energy on me. Focus on healing yourself." He paused before adding, "Thanks though."

"My vessel is mostly intact. I believe many of the injuries I had sustained repaired themselves while unconscious. And… Dean?" He waited until the man's eyes were on him once more. "I helped you because I wanted too."

Much to his surprise Dean started to chuckle.

"You find that humorous?"

The hunter tried to stifle the laughs. "No really. It just reminded me of something Sam told me the other day."

Cas let it go for the time being. Instead he readied himself for the next part of the pair's conversation. The part the angel was not looking forward to and wanted to get over with as soon as possible.

"So," he began, "I know you must have questions…"

Dean immediately sobered. "I won't ask if you don't want to talk about it."

"It's going to happen eventually. Might as well be now." He glanced at the human almost timidly. "Besides, I'd rather it be just you."

The man looked taken back but quickly composed himself. The angel waited as he shifted in the chair as if he was nervous about learning what truly happened all those years ago. Not the Cas could judge since his stomach had filled with butterflies as well.

Finally, Dean cleared his throat. "I, uh, I know you're an angel and all, but why do the demons want you alive?"

"Azazel doesn't just want to rule; he wants to crush any who oppose him and he believes destroying Heaven is the way to do that. Without Heaven, all souls would be condemned to Hell and his power would only grow."

"What's preventing him from getting inside?"

"Well, I suppose that would be my doing."

* * *

_They should've seen it coming. All the signs were there, but hubris made them all dismissive. Good had always triumphed over evil. Angels had always been able to keep demons at bay. There was no reason to believe otherwise._

_ Azazel had been counting on that when executing his plan. He knew he'd have to play the long game, but he was a patient creature. For centuries, maybe eons even, no one knows for sure, demons attacked and killed lone angels one by one. The attacks were so sporadic Heaven never considered a connection to something bigger._

_ It wasn't until the archangels began disappearing pieces began falling into place. But it was too late by then. Raphael was first. Gabriel soon followed. Panic began to brew as the angels attempted to rally together. But their numbers were severely depleted by that point and defenses weakened. Eventually, Michael announced his plan to free Lucifer from the depths of Hell and beg for his help and forgiveness. Many tried to convince him to seek assistance elsewhere but Michael was desperate. They all were. Both of the remaining archangels were never heard from again._

_ It wasn't long before every angel left was fighting for their life in the same corner of Earth. The once proud keep of Klord was now nothing but rubble. Any humans in the area were either dead or possessed. Bursts of light peppered the night sky as hundreds of demons and angels fell._

_ And Castiel was one of the few still fighting. Demon after demon felt his blade but thousands more still marched forward from all sides. He could feel the muscles of his vessel straining with exhaustion. Manifested wings aching from use. Normally, angels kept their wings hidden from the Earthly plane, but Castiel needed every advantage he could muster. Even if it meant losing a few feathers._

_ "Cassie, look out!"_

_ The angel immediately ducked as something flew over his head, not caring to figure out what it was. He looked back up to see nearly a dozen black eyes charging straight for him. Thrusting a hand outwards, Castiel sent a telekinetic wave knocking the demons flat on their backs. The action only bought a few moments, but he used that time to backpedal and join one of his brethren's side._

_ "Thanks for the warning," he huffed._

_ Balthazar smiled. "My pleasure. So, any bright ideas Boss?"_

_ "I am not in charge."_

_ "Hate to break it to you, but you're the highest ranking fool left alive."_

_ Castiel knew that to be true, but he never felt like a good fit for command. Unfortunately, war never cared about such petty things._

_ "If you want my opinion," Balthazar continued, "We're not going to last much longer out in the open like this."_

_ He gestured to what was left of his armor. The leather was practically shredded and every inch of his body and cream colored wings was covered in dirt, scrapes, and blood. Castiel supposed he didn't look much better._

_ The demons he'd knocked over had gathered themselves and began charging again. Cries of fury ripped from their throats._

_ Castiel risked a glance to his other brothers and sisters. All were struggling and the waves of demons continued surrounding the angels slowly enclosing the circle. There was only one place to go._

_"_Retreat_!" he called out telepathically. "_Go to the Gates. Prepare to seal them if necessary. Go now!_"_

_ One by one, the remaining angels shot into the night sky disappearing from view. Demons attempted to stop them by throwing whatever they could find; their weapons, rocks, anything really. Soon only two angels remained._

_ Castiel turned to his brother. "Go! I'll distract them."_

_ "No way in Father's name am I leaving you behind." Balthazar steeled him with a look that offered no room for argument. That and demons were closing in. Fast._

_ Castiel sighed in defeat. "Fine. Let's go."_

_ He unfurled his large black wings to their full span. Demons slowed their charge in fear but quickly recovered as he leapt into the sky with Balthazar right behind. But the slight relief was cut short with a scream. Castiel twisted to look down at the horrible scene below. Balthazar dropped to the ground hard. A scavenged angel blade pierced his left wing where feathers met his vessel's flesh. Demons were already on top of him clawing at his skin and pulling out clumps of feathers. Balthazar tried to fight back, but there were just too many. Castiel contorted his body aiming to dive at the demons and save his brother. The fear on Balthazar's bloody face quickly morphed into surprise and worry as he recognized Castiel's intent. He tried to shout, but only ended up choking on blood filling his throat._

_Verbally incapacitated, Balthazar practically screamed into Castiel's mind. "_No! Stay back! Get out of here_!"_

_Castiel flapped his wings stopping his dissent. "_We leave together Balthazar, remember?_"_

_"_You have to!_" he pleaded, "_The others need you to lead them! I'll see you again in the Empty Cassie. Now go!_"_

_He was torn. Logically he knew Balthazar was right; that it was the smart decision. But the human emotion of sadness was overwriting any logical thought… no. It was more than sadness; it was grief. Grief over their Father's disappearance. Grief over losing so many brothers and sisters. Grief over failing humanity so many times and now they're the ones who'll have to suffer. _

_The hovering angel was ripped out of his inner turmoil as something resembling a spear whistled past his head. More objects flew around him as demons attempted to ground him as well which he nimbly dodged. Balthazar's screams could still be heard as Castiel turned away not daring to look back. Not even when a brilliant light flooded the air as Balthazar's life came to an end. _

_"_Goodbye Brother._"_

_There was nothing left to do but flee._


	12. Stranger with Wings

**Author's Notes: Surprise! Backstory isn't quite over yet. I don't have much to say right now except thank you for the lovely feedback. Your comments make me smile every time :)**

**As always please fav and follow for update notifications and please review. I want to know what you guys think. Stay safe and healthy!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Stranger with Wings**

_In all honesty, they lasted longer than expected. Humans would've perceived it as five months, but the Battle of the Gate lasted for fifty years in Heaven. The angels dwindled in numbers from a few hundred to only one. Demons loomed over Castiel for two full days of constant battle before the last angel was subdued._

_Hundreds of demons mocked as he fell to his hands and knees, back to the high-rising Golden Gates. The ground itself seemed to sway as dirt bit into his skin. Everything ached yet he was too exhausted to care. He didn't even have the strength to prevent his injured wings from drooping. Castiel bowed his head and closed his eyes waiting to join his family._

_But it never came._

_The sound of boots shifting along the gravel caused him to peel his eyes open. Through the blood and sweat, he was able to make out a lone figure sauntering up to him. The sea of demons parted allowing Azazel an up close view of their defeated foe. The Prince of Hell's cruel smirk sent shivers down the angels' spine._

_"Well," he purred, "That was fun, wasn't it? I have to say watching you all squirm was thrilling. Absolutely thrilling. I mean who would've thought angels could be entertaining, right? Certainly not me, that's for sure."_

_Azazel crouched down lifting Castiel's sagging head with one finger under his chin. "But all good things must come to an end." The demon gripped his face pulling the two enemies ever closer. Castiel could practically smell the sulfur on his breath. "So any last words, Castiel?"_

_Yellow eyes bore into his very being as if challenging for defiance. That is something the angel would happily oblige. Without a second thought, he gathered as much blood in his mouth as he could, which wasn't difficult, and spat straight into Azazel's face. "You will never rule humanity."_

_Pain immediately exploded across his cheek as the force from the back-handed blow sent him twisting to the ground. A yelp escaped from him that was drowned out by spectating laughter. Castiel attempted to rise but slammed back down as his arms gave out. All he could do was gaze at the Gates of Heaven and listen to the creatures at his back._

_"Alright," Azazel sighed, "play time's over. Time to seal the deal."_

_Castiel couldn't have worded it better. A last ditch effort to protect the billions of souls residing within the gates only to be used in times of desperation. And there's is no time like the present. With that, he summoned every bit of strength left, raised his hand, and muttered under his breath._

_Azazel faltered at his actions. "What are…"_

_A pure white light emanated from the gates as the last words of the Enochian incantation were completed. Gasps quickly turned to shrieks as any unfortunate demon hovering too close evaporated into nothing, but all Castiel felt was warmth and slight rejuvenation as the light washed over him. It finally faded completely leaving the gates looking as if nothing happened. But Castiel knew better; they were sealed shut. Human souls could still enter after death, but nothing else. Not even angels._

_Unfortunately the smiting light wasn't enough to take out the Prince of Hell. It did, however, make him unsteady which is exactly what Castiel needed to escape. Being the last angel meant only he could break Heaven's seal. Once the demons figured out what just occurred, nothing would stop them from handing him to Alistair. The angel doubted he could withstand that demon's twisted mind._

_With the small burst of energy, Castiel shakily rose to his feet summoning his angel blade. Azazel cried out as Castiel blindly slashed at his face. The angel felt the blade make contact but didn't bother to look upon his work. Instead he ran; stumbling as far from the gates as he could manage in such a weakened state while wings dragged behind._

_Azazel wailed somewhere behind him, "Stop him! I need him alive!"_

_A few blows did come his way as the demons began to recover. Dodge, parry, run, repeat. Castiel defended himself for what seemed like hours before finally being cornered, toeing the edge of Heaven as the demons pressed in. His entire body trembled, but he couldn't afford to lose. Not this time. A dagger was trusted towards his legs, but he intercepted the motion with his own weapon. Before he could even straighten, a force struck dead center of his chest knocking the wind out of his lungs._

_Then he was falling. Racing towards Earth unable to slow the momentum with his injuries. But even as the pull of unconsciousness strengthened, all Castiel felt was peace. For the first time in centuries, he knew Heaven was safe. No one, not even the combined power of the princes of Hell, could break the seal without him. Azazel had been so close to claiming victory only for it to slip from his grasp._

_A wistful look graced Castiel's features and the last Angel of the Lord met the Earth._

* * *

"I woke up in a crater somewhere in the north," Castiel said. "I was surprised I had survived the fall given my condition. I took some time to heal and I've been traveling the world since trying to stay one step ahead of Azazel while helping where I could and… well you know the rest."

Dean sat there in silence for a while. It was a lot to process but the angel was starting to worry he actually broke the human. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed wincing at the stiffness of his muscles.

"So you have wings?"

As soon as the words passed his lips, Dean quickly looked away. The red creeping up his neck was amusingly clear.

Cas tilted his head at the blurted question. "What?"

"Sorry, that was probably really offensive. I shouldn't have asked about that."

"No, that's not it." Cas pushed himself into a sitting position shaking lightly. Finding his strength still waning, he leaned against the headboard while trying to reassure the man next to him. "It's not offensive, really, it's just… after everything you just heard, that's your first question?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, when I got shot, I thought I saw shadowy wings behind you. Thought I was hallucinating at first, but now…"

"Oh. I suppose it is possible you saw them."

"So you do have wings."

"Yes Dean. I have wings. They're just not in manifest."

Dean nodded and the silence returned. It wasn't uncomfortable, per say, but there was a small amount of awkward tension in the air. The hunter, Cas realized, was scared of saying the wrong thing. As if being an angel suddenly changed someone's personality. To be fair, finding out your close friend was one of the most powerful creatures in existence and could destroy you with a thought tended to shift one's perception.

"They're black," he offered shyly hoping the break the tension.

The man's head snapped up. It was his turn to be confused. "What?"

Castiel swallowed. "My wings; they're black. Well, sort of."

If he was being truthful, the angel found the inquisitive look painting Dean's features quite endearing. He shook his head before other thoughts festered. "At first glance, every feather is as black as ink. So dark nothing could pierce it. But they're different when light shines on them. They're still black, but different colors shimmer and shine based on the time of day; the morning brings undertones of orange and yellow like the rising sun. Evening holds darks blues and violets as dusk turns to night. But my favorite is when the moon shines bright."

Cas's eyes slipped closed as he pictured the sight. "Flashes of silver dance across an inky background as moonlight reflects back into the world. It always reminds me of millions of stars on the clearest night untouched by hate and war."

Blue eyes slowly opened, clinging to the image. He stared at the ceiling. "Few angels have… had dark feathers. Heaven is considered a place of goodness and light, so those like me were considered odd. I often heard comments behind my back, but I never felt ashamed. A few of my siblings were kind and never treated me differently. And that was enough. Never thought I had to hide my wings."

"They sound beautiful," Dean whispered drawing Cas out of memories. "I, uh, I'd like to see them one day. If that's alright with you."

"I'd like that too."

And just like that, the tension dissolved leaving both with the ability to breathe again. The angel and human talked the day away sharing stories of childhood and history, hardships and triumphs, fact and fiction. Nothing was held back.

The comfort of each other's company from before Cas's reveal came back stronger than ever. Yet there was a subtle difference. Not bad, not good, just different, more vulnerable. There was excitement of recounting thousands of years of events so freely. It was nice, Cas decided. Letting time slip by as the worries of the world are pushed aside if only for a moment. Castiel didn't want to stop. And there was no one else in the universe he'd want to share with. Neither mentioned it when their hands found one another again.

"Wait, hold up," Dean interrupted. "You're saying Azazel, a Prince and current ruler of Hell, hasn't been in his own domain for decades?"

Castiel nodded grimly. "He's obsessed with getting into Heaven. Ever since the gates were sealed, he's been right there trying to break in. Though I suppose that wouldn't be the case anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"News of my capture spread quickly throughout the demon's ranks. If I recall correctly, Alistair would've been sent for in order to… persuade me into breaking the seal before Azazel arrived." The angel shuddered and the thought and Dean squeezed his hand in comfort. "Luckily, certain hard-headed hunters got me out before that happened."

"Sounds like a couple morons to me." Dean bit his lip. "I mean, who would be stupid enough to sneak into a demon camp to save an angel?"

"Who knows? But I bet said angel is very grateful."

The hunter finally laughed unable to hold it back any longer. "Guess the demons are out of luck. Not much they can do now."

"They could capture me again."

The smile immediately vanished. Strong determination fueled the fire in Dean's green eyes. "That won't happen. They'd have to find you first and the keep is protected by every spell and sigil known to man. They can't get in."

"Be that as it may, if my location is discovered, innocent people would be in danger."

The hunter shook his head. "Besides me, only Sam and my father know about you."

"That won't matter," Castiel sighed. "Before, I had a necklace in the shape of a sigil that prevented demons from seeing my true form inside my vessel. It was damaged and Azazel was apparently powerful enough to sense a rise celestial energy. It's how I was found in the first place. He'll be murderous about my escape and knowing him, the prince will want to hunt me down personally this time."

"So the most powerful demon out there is coming to Earth." Dean rubbed his face. "Great, so what are we going to do?"

For years Castiel had ran, hid from those hunting him. Always looking over his shoulder fearful of what he might find. For years the shadows had been winning, snuffing out the brilliant light of humanity.

But now the angel felt it deep in his gut. He bore his gaze into the man next to him knowing a slight glow emanated from his eyes. Setting his jaw, the angel knew it was time.

"We're going to end this war."


	13. Answering the Dark

**Author's Notes: Hello you beautiful people! Things are starting to come together now that the boys are fully reunited. This chapter is a bit slower than the last few, but not to worry... it's not over yet ;)**

**Anyways, please fav and follow for update notifications. And please leave a review to let me know what you think!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Answering the Dark**

"Oh, hell no!"

Three sets of eyes snapped towards Dean holding a different expression. Cas was standing next to him, towering over Lord Winchester's desk and looking apologetic. Sam just rolled his eyes from the opposite side of the desk, their father sitting next to him.

It wasn't often the elder man was confused but apparently this was one of the rare occasions. "Son, be reasonable."

"I am!" he shouted. Immediately he regretted his tone as his father raised an eyebrow. He quickly muttered an apology successfully avoiding a lecture.

Cas placed a hand on the human's shoulder. "I understand your concern. But it's alright."

"Nothing about this is alright." Frustration was building by the minute fueling anger. Why could no one else see the absolute madness?

The angel frowned. "I am fully capable of protecting myself."

"Can't argue with that Dean," Sam added sheepishly. "We've seen him fight and that was without powers."

"That's not my point," Dean growled. His head was beginning to hurt.

"Then what is?"

Dean rubbed his face sighing loudly. "Do none of you really see how crazy this is?" He pointed a finger at Cas. "You said you wanted to end this war. But attacking Azazel head on without backup is suicide." He turned his attention to his family. "And you two are okay with it?"

No one had an answer. All averted their gaze from the seething hunter. Normally it was him suggesting illogical solutions of impossible odds. He wondered when he became the sensible one.

A slight tug forced Dean to meet Cas's blue eyes. The angel set his jaw yet spoke in kind. "Please understand, being a Prince of Hell means Azazel is more powerful than you can imagine. He rivals even my own Dean. No human, no matter how skilled, stands a chance. That's why I have to go alone. I don't want you or Sam or anyone else getting hurt. I…" Cas finally dropped his gaze. "I don't want to see you on the verge of death again."

The hunter opened his mouth and closed it again. What could he say? He'd known Cas long enough to see his stubbornness; a kind of determination as strong as a mountain in the wind.

But something set that wind into a howl. Dean could feel it in his gut Cas was leaving something out. Not outright lying; the guy truly didn't want others to get hurt, but there was no way he was going to… oh.

"You really don't plan on coming back."

It wasn't a question. And the hesitation was confirmation enough. Dean felt as if the world fell away into nothing. Floating with nothing grounding him and nothing to pull him out. It was just like when Cas was missing.

Castiel stepped forward. A flash of hurt crossed his face when the trembling man stepped back. "I lost hope of returning of Heaven, my _home_, long ago. But I can still protect it. I know I can't make you see my side of things. But if Azazel is killed, Hell will be leaderless. Thousands of demons would be lost and eventually they'll return to the pit. Cut of the head and the body will flounder."

Dean stared, tears pricking at his eyes. He bit the insides of his cheeks trying to believe what he was hearing. The mountain still stood tall; the wind was desperate. And desperation drove one to do things they wouldn't normally do.

Dean let his mask crumble completely. He let the tears fall. He ignored the raised alarm warning of consequences of vulnerability. He let every ounce of emotion bleed into his voice as the wind gave one last burst.

"Please Cas. How do you think I'll feel if you die? W… when you disappeared, I could hardly think straight. And I can't… I can't lose you again. I need you Cas. You hear me? I need you."

Everything stilled as if captured in a painting. The world held its breath. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

"What do you suggest we do?"

A small piece of the mountain broke free.

The wind carried it away.

It took a moment to process Castiel's words. The hunter nearly pinched himself in case he'd somehow fallen asleep. Happily he had not. But now there was another problem; planning wasn't his strong suite.

"We could, um, we could…"

"We could sneak in again."

Dean jumped and twisted to look at his brother. Honestly, he forgot other people were in the study in his moment of weakness. Not so subtly, he wiped the tears away noticing his father smirking as if he knew an amusing secret his son didn't. The hunter didn't put much thought into it.

Sam continued oblivious to his family. "Dean and I did it before. I'm sure we can do it again."

"Not this time," Castiel countered. "Every demon will be on high alert especially with their leader around. Besides, Azazel can sense my presence. He'd know we were coming."

"Not if you show up at the last moment," Lord Winchester said. "That's something you can do, right; appear anywhere at an instant?"

"If you are referring to how angels fly, then yes."

"Can you do it with two passengers?"

"Easily."

The man folded his hands and leaned onto the desk. "I'm thinking since the armies of Hell haven't knocked on our door, your celestial energy is at least dimmed here at Kripsing. So when the time is right, you fly yourself, Sam and Dean from here straight into the bastard's camp."

"But," Dean stepped up, "even if we get to Azazel, won't he be surrounded by hundreds of demons? Fighting will draw their attention and we'd stand no chance against that many enemies."

Sam nodded brows knit together. "If the majority of the forces are distracted, it will give us enough time to take out Azazel."

Lord Winchester made a similar expression to his youngest. Dean was struck just how similar the two could be at times.

"That could work." The elder said. "Except both of you need to be with Castiel. I mean no offense, but he could use every ounce of help he can get. There not enough people for a distraction."

"So we get more," Dean declared.

Lord Winchester shook his head. "I can't afford to take men away from Thindol Valley. We're barely holding the line as it is. And I'm sure other places are in a similar situation."

Dean's stomach dropped. Part of him feared without a solid plan, the angel would head off alone anyways. And the man was determined not to let that happen. But without more people…

"We don't have to." He looked at the others in the room making sure all understood his thoughts. "Who do we know that specialize in killing demons? Who's not on the front lines?"

Sam quickly caught on as a smile split his face. "Hunters. Other hunters with the same job we have."

"Exactly. We can call on the other teams the other lords created. They can distract the demons."

"This could actually work."

Smiling, Dean turned to Cas. The angel looked hesitant; arms crossed and shoulders hunched. Something was wrong. Panic brewed deep in the hunter's chest as his fears once more came forward. He almost didn't want to ask, but he gathered his courage. "Cas? What's wrong?"

Immediately, Castiel's arms dropped to his sides as worried blue eyes pinned the hunter in place. It was then he caught a glimpse; a glimpse of someone other than the Cas he knew. The thousands of years of living. The hundreds of battles saying what works and what doesn't. The joy of standing witness to humanity weighed down by the uncertainty of its fate.

Those eyes had seen more than Dean ever would. But the purity in them was startling. Not innocence, too much had happened for them to be innocent. Instead, the blue orbs had seen the hate, the cruelty, the darkest sides of people and chose to love them anyways; to defend until he couldn't. Even without meeting other angels, the man knew the one before him was unlike any of his kin. He knew, in that moment, he caught a glimpse of Castiel, the Angel of Thursday.

Finally, the angel sighed averting his gaze. "I dislike the idea of putting others in danger. However, since you are dead set on the insane task of accompanying me to Azazel's defeat, then summoning other hunters is the best course of action."

Dean released the breath he was unconsciously holding. Knowing relief was written all over his face, he pointedly ignored the Sam smirk being sent his way. Instead he focused on the elder man. "How long to gather the hunters?"

Lord Winchester stroked his chin. "Hard to say. A couple weeks at least and that's if other lords don't argue about pulling them away. But I can get the ravens sent by the end of the day."

"And we can plan our attack in the meantime," Sam added.

Pride shone brightly from the Lord's face; a type of pride only a father could give his children. Dean couldn't help the swell of determination to become worthy of it. He patted the angel on the back smiling at his family. "Alright then. Let's get to work."

* * *

"Castiel, a moment?"

The angel turned back to Lord Winchester still sitting behind his desk. He heard the brothers leave the private study, gently closing the door behind them. Approaching the man, Cas noted the tension holding his shoulders ridged. The way he wouldn't meet the angel's eyes screamed he did _not_ necessarily desire to have this conversation. Curiosity piqued, Cas sat down patiently waiting for the man to begin.

Lord Winchester cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I never got a chance to thank you for saving Dean… again. Not many would have revealed such a huge secret for one man."

"There is no need to thank me, My Lord."

The man chuckled. "Haven't changed much, have you? And, please, call me John."

"Of course, John."

"In any case, I'm still grateful." He relaxed into the back of his chair. A distant look entered his eyes as he gazed out the window without really seeing it. "You've been there for my boys more than I have since this whole thing started." There was no malice or jealousy in his tone like Cas feared. There was, however, a certain light-heartedness involved in his next statement. "You and Dean have gotten particularly close."

He wasn't too socially naive to realize what the man was implying. It's not like he's never thought about it before, but to have someone say it out loud was something else entirely. Cas shifted in his chair hoping the heat creeping up his neck wasn't noticeable. "Yes, we, uh, we've been through much together. He's one of the few I trust completely."

John smiled slightly, eyes barely creasing. "I'm happy you found each other."

"Um, thank you My Lord."

The man just nodded falling into silence. Cas couldn't really see the reason for this particular conversation and honestly it was making both uncomfortable. But the angel could tell the Winchester's mind was elsewhere. "Is there something else on your mind?"

Brown eyes snapped forward. "I suppose there is."

The man didn't elaborate right away. Silence stretched and Cas nearly excused himself thinking no explanation was coming. But John continued before than happened. "I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to ask or what Heaven's rules are but…" He cleared his throat. "I assume the boys have told you about their mother?"

The angel nodded. A few months into hunting, both Sam and Dean drunkenly stammered through the story of Mary Winchester's death. The family had been traveling when a powerful demon attacked them. John was able to save the boys, Sam was only six months old at the time, but at the cost of his wife. He watched as she burned to ash in seconds. Her death had distracted the demon long enough for him to disappear into the trees with his sons wrapped tightly in his arms. It was the reason the Eastlands were so committed to the fight.

"Well," Lord Winchester said, "it's just, um… I, uh…"

"You wish to know if your wife is in Heaven," Castiel finished.

Worry creased John's brow as if he was scared of the answer. "I can't imagine Mary going to Hell, but there's always doubt, you know? I just need to know if she's happy."

Castiel could understand that. In all of creation, humans always prayed for their loved ones who had passed on. Even now, when all angels were believed to be gone, he'd overhear people asking for some sign their friend or family member had made it to salvation.

In the old days, angels could peek into Heaven while on Earth. But with the gates sealed, Castiel was cut off, but not all was lost. If the person was in Heaven, he could know with just a name.

Normally, Cas would never answer such questions. But the man deserved that much at least. "I cannot see what her particular Heaven looks like, but she is there."

Relief swept over John as he slumped in his chair. Tension left his shoulders and he actually smiled wide. "Thank you, Castiel."

For the briefest of moments, just sitting there talking with and helping a human, Castiel felt like the Angel of Thursday once more.


	14. Running into the Fire

**Author's notes: OMG we're here! Honestly though, I had a tough time deciding how this was gonna go and I'm not quite sure this was the best way. Buuut I'm committed to it now and there no stopping me.**

**Anyway, please fav and follow for notifications and please review!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Running into the Fire**

Bobby thought nothing could surprise him anymore. For years the man had hunted demons, vampires, ghouls, every creature that goes bump in the night. His home is a horde of irreplaceable lore, spells, and knowledge. People from all lines of life seeking words written long ago. As age had begun taking hold, Bobby Singer took more time assisting others with research and less time hunting himself. He didn't mind it and quite enjoyed the quiet life. So being asked to organize and lead a large group of hunters was very unexpected.

But nothing could have prepared him for what the Winchesters revealed. He'd never meet him in person, but it was easy enough to keep tabs on the boys and their friend throughout the months. The guy, Cas they called him, seemed like someone the brothers trusted and a damn good hunter. But apparently Cas was Castiel, a living breathing angel. It took several stiff drinks to comprehend the information.

And he didn't find out by accident. No, the Winchesters had a reason for revealing something so big. Now it was time to complete his given task.

The elder looked to the hunter beside him. "Everything ready Ellen?"

The woman deadpanned him a look. "Ye have little faith Old Man."

He didn't comment on the choice of wording. Instead, he peered over the tall grass as fires throughout the alarmingly large encampment lit the cloudy sky. Even from nearly a mile away, the shouts of glee easily reached human ears.

The force of nearly a hundred hunters listened with nervous anticipation. Gathering from all over the kingdom, every man and woman knew not everyone would survive what was to come. But taking a few demons with them seemed like a fair way to go. Most were right to think attacking was crazy, but they didn't know what was really at stake.

"Everyone should be done by now," he grumbled softly.

"They have to be careful getting that close," Ellen reminded. "Damn sensitive hearing and all that."

"I'm surprised you let Jo come along."

She deflated with a sigh shaking her head. "She promised to stay back unless needed. Would've locked her up, but that girl has become quite the jail breaker nowadays.

It was then the sound of an owl filled the air. Most wouldn't pay any mind, but the distinct pattern made both hunters perk up. It was time.

Ellan pursed her lips and imitated the call but with a different pattern. Immediately, a wall of fire erupted to life about halfway to the camp. Precision placement of special oil a quarter mile across allowed flames to burn bright for a long time with minimal damage to the surrounding foliage. Bobby and Ellen briskly closed the distance to the fire. Footfalls indicated the rest of the hunters were following. All listened as demonic glee twisted into alarm and panic. A few distinct voices rose above the rest shouting orders and attempting to control the masses.

It took longer than desired, but finally all hunters reached the pre-planned spot about fifty yards from the flames. The grass around them already dried from the heat and the elder man hoped it didn't catch fire as well. With sight mostly obscured, the hunters relied on sound. The demons had already reached the other side to investigate nearly directly in front of Bobby's position.

"You all," an enemy barked, "go to the other side and report what's there."

"Yessir."

Both hunters vaguely watched as the shadows of about ten demons crossed the flames. They smiled. Every hunter knew fire, not even holy fire, could kill a demon. Except the flames were not meant to kill; they were meant to hide the Devil's Traps behind.

Yelps of surprise filled the air and were quickly silenced with multiple _thwacks_ of demon-killing arrows. Orange glows ran through the bodies as they fell limp to the ground.

"Ambush," the demon from before exclaimed. "Gather everyone else. We have hunters to kill."

Sometimes the speed demons travel was really annoying. Instantly, the fire vanished and Bobby's heart skipped a beat. Through the grass stood an army. It wouldn't be a surprise if the whole camp was emptied, but he knew he wasn't that lucky.

"Spread out and find them. They're hiding like cowards," the order came.

Bobby turned to Ellen's grim expression. No words were said, they weren't needed. Slowly they backed away as quietly as humanly possible. The deadliest game of hide-and-seek was about the begin. They just had to last long enough for the Winchesters to do their thing. And with the demons distracted there was no time like the present.

Bobby concentrated as thoughts turned into prayer. "Castiel…"

* * *

Waiting was the worst; knowing, anticipating something about to happen with no idea when. Dean was undoubtedly a man of action. Even at a young age, he was never good at the waiting game. Patience never being a strong quality. It took most of his willpower not to pace the study and stay in his chair.

A strong hand landed on top of his knee halting its movements. Dean hadn't even realized it had been bouncing. He looked up to the brown eyes attached to the hand and quickly mumbled an apology.

Sam gave a sympathetic look and leaned back into his own chair. "You sure you have everything?"

The elder rolled his eyes. "I've checked three times, Sammy. Everything is in its place."

Even so, the hunter quickly did another mental check of everything on his list again; sword, dagger, other dagger, canteen of holy water, anti-possession charm… down the list he went. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cas silently observing as still as a statue. As day had turned to night, the angel had gotten increasingly quiet. A distant look overtaking his blue eyes as thoughts ran through his head. It was hard to imagine what the angel was feeling. Still the man couldn't help but respect his resolve. Going after someone who'd been hunting him for a long time was a lot to process.

Like a strike of lightening, Castiel straightened in his chair shoulders tensing. The brother stilled waiting for the inevitable words to be uttered and their fight to begin. The world held its breath unwilling to shatter the calm before the storm.

Finally, Cas focused on the men before him with a mixture of determination and dread. "It's time."

Two soft spoken words spurred the three beings into quick action. Ensuring everything was secure on their person, they formed a small circle in the middle of the room. No words needed to be spoken as Cas raised both hands. There was slight hesitation before connecting two fingers to each brother's forehead.

And Dean's world spun. And he soon realized flying was indescribable. Being unconscious the first time, he wasn't really sure what to expect. The hunter's entire body buzzed with a rush of energy. It was as if his very soul was being pulled in opposite directions not used to moving so quickly. And then it was over. Barely a blink and distorted surroundings came into focus.

The trio stood under the night sky among the tents making up the demonic camp. Various sickly looking fires peppered the area casting the place in an earie glow. Dean held back the urge to gag as the potent smell of sulfur assaulted his nose.

That's when the lack of demons became apparent. Not a single black eye to be found. Unease twisted its way into the hunter's stomach. The sound of battle rang in the distance. Either the plan was working too well or…

"This feels like a trap," Sam muttered.

Dean didn't respond. Instead he looked worriedly to Cas. The angel was hiding his emotions well with a carefully constructed blank mask. The hunter had seen him push aside emotions before, but never to this degree. Its how old stories described the Heavenly warriors; not warm nor kind, but cold and detached. And right now, in place of his friend, Dean only saw Castiel the Angel.

That's how he knew the powerful being beside him wasn't just concerned about attacking the Prince of Hell; he was scared. Dean felt helplessness clinch his heart. He wanted to reassure things would be fine. He wanted to pull his friend as far away from this place as possible. He wanted his angel safe. But Dean couldn't do any of that. They've risked too much to turn back now.

But there was one thing that could help. Something the pair had recently began doing but never spoke about. Something simple yet it sent waves of excitement and calm at the same time. Looking straight ahead, the hunter allowed a rough, callused hand to search for the angel's. They quickly found each other and as gentle as a whisper, fingers wrapped loosely around pale skin in a way as to let the other pull away if desired.

At first, Castiel didn't react as blue eyes deduced to correct direction. Then the hand shifted as if the end the contact, but that wasn't the case. Instead, the hand turned slightly until it nearly mirrored the other. Fingers interlocked in a warm embrace. The angel squeezed tightly sending Dean a silent message. He didn't want the moment to end. But soon enough, Cas released his grip and walked away. The brothers quickly followed keeping a sharp eye for any movement.

A few minutes of silent stalking passed before the angel pulled the men around a corner signaling to wait. It wasn't long before the sound of quick heavy steps grew louder. Two demons ran into view heading the same direction the hunters were. Without a second thought, Sam lunged and tackled one to the ground. The creature's startled yelp was quickly cut off as Dean ran up and plunged his demon blade into the meat suit's chest.

Retrieving his weapon, the brothers watched in awe as Castiel calmly swatted the other demon's knife away. Not giving the adversary time to even blink, the angel placed his palm on the demon's forehead. Brilliant bright light forced the on lookers to shield their eyes before it faded. The empty body dropped to the ground eyes burnt to nothing.

Display of such power rendered the humans immobile. Wide green and brown eyes shifted from the angel to the body and back again.

"We need to keep moving," Cas whispered, effectively snapping them out of their shock.

Together, they continued through the camp wary of any sudden threats. But none came. Not a single demon stumbled across a path only Cas could see. And the unease churning in Dean's stomach only grew. Nerves were on fire with anticipation. He almost wished _something_ would happen.

The hunter should've known better than to tempt fate.

Cautiously, they stepped into a large open area that contrasted with the confinement of the rest of the camp. Entryways of pristine looking tents faced the area in a neatly organized circle. A blazing, cackling hearth occupied the center casting dancing shadows along the walls. Even standing twenty feet away, the scorching heat chased the nightly chill from the man's bones as he idly wondered if the flames weren't exactly normal.

Green eyes scanned the area. He barely registered the same emptiness as the rest of the camp before Sam's shout rang loudly. Dean turned in time to watch his brother go flying through the air, thrown to the left by an unseen force. His arms and legs flailed on instinct trying to correct the balance he could no longer control. The younger slammed into a tent and disappeared as the walls enveloped his body. Dust and dirt scattered; the crack of splintering wood causing the witness to wince in sympathy. The entire structure collapsed leaving the hunter buried in a heap of fabric.

"Sam!"

Dean took a step toward his brother before something smashed into his own chest. His feet left the ground as he too was thrown to the opposite side. Luckily, nothing laid in his path. Unluckily, the ground rushed up to greet him as he braced for impact. Air was forced out of his lungs as he meet the earth. Unable to stop his momentum and tumbling across the area, rocks bit into his arms and torso each causing sharp pains.

Finally, he came to a halt flat on his stomach. Limbs ached and dizziness plagued Dean's vision. Slowly lifting his head, the hunter found Cas still standing in the same spot. The angel's focus was not on either brother as expected. Instead, the intense stare was directed straight ahead. Dean followed the gaze past the hearth to the other side of the area.

Casually standing there, arms held behind his back, was a man. He looked along the lines of late forties to mid-fifties who was average height, though much shorter than the Winchesters. Cropped, dirty blonde hair and well-worn practical clothing suggested the man knew years of hard labor.

But he wasn't a man; not really. Pure evil and malice rolled off his shoulders in waves causing a shiver to run through the hunter. Dean didn't need to be able to see the demonic face hidden with flesh. He didn't even need to see the unnatural yellow color of the eyes. He knew exactly who the creature was.

Azazel's lips twisted into a cruel smirk eyes boring into his angelic prey. "Well, isn't this a nice surprise."


	15. Becoming History

**Author's Notes: As we come to the final few chapters I wanted to thank each and every one of you for following this story. Every time I read a new review, I can't help but smile like an idiot. I can't wait to show you the end and hope you like it.  
**

**Anyway, please fav and follow for notifications and please review!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Becoming History**

Castiel fought to keep his breath steady in an attempt to push down the panic. He needed to be in total control of his emotions to have a chance against the powerful foe. But the frantic beating of his heart betrayed any calm mask constructed. And the enemy knew it.

Azazel had changed bodies since the last time they met. This one was much shorter, but the cruelty shinning through those cold, dead yellow eyes that made sure the demon's presence was known.

Pinned by the gaze, the angel could do nothing as Sam was thrown to one side and Dean to the other in quick succession. Little relief was brought when he sensed the two were somehow still conscious. This was exactly what Cas feared when the brothers demanded to come along.

The Prince of Hell smirked not taking his eyes off his prize. "Well, isn't this a surprise." The tone coating his voice revealed he actually was. "I took you for a lot of things, Castiel, but suicidally reckless wasn't one of them."

"Things change," Castiel countered.

Azazel furrowed his brows. "Maybe. But you've avoided my grasp for decades. Instincts like that don't just disappear."

"Perhaps you don't know me like you think."

He tapped his chin. "I guess now that's true, but before you'd never attack like this. I wonder what changed?"

A soft groan drew both pairs of eyes to the man recovering from being thrown aside. Dean shakily pushed himself to his hands and knees looking back and forth between the two powerful beings before him.

Castiel mentally cursed as Azazel's eyes lit up as the dots connected. Somehow, the demon's smile grew even more feral.

"Why, Castiel," he cooed, "you're a sentimentalist. You got yourself a pet."

Suppressed panic roared to life once more. He shouldn't have let them come. He shouldn't have gotten attached to mortals. He shouldn't have let himself fall… No, now was not the time for regret.

"He has nothing to do with this," the angel bargained. "This is between you and me."

"Oh, I beg to differ," the demon chuckled. "Sentiment, love are powerful motivators. Besides, you really though I wouldn't recognize the Winchester boys? Your little hunting buddies have killed too many demons for me _not_ to notice. And, oh man, the revenge I have plan once I'm through with you…"

Azazel was abruptly cut off. Castiel surged forward, faster than any human could see. The angel blade dropped into his hand poised to strike the demon's throat. A slight look of surprise came over the prince's face but quickly disappeared in time to swat the deadly blow away and grip the angel's wrist in one fluid motion. Immediately, Azazel's other hand shot up and around his adversary's throat squeezing tightly.

On instinct alone, Castiel twisted his shoulders to the right, locking the demon's hand in place. Quickly, he raised his left arm and dropped his elbow hard onto the crook of the enemy's arm. Air rushed into his lungs once more as the hand was forced to release its hold.

Azazel grunted, fire filling his eyes. In retaliation, he strengthened his grasp preventing use of the angel blade. A sudden kick to the back of the knee sent the angel partially to the ground.

Gritting his teeth, Castiel felt pain shoot up his leg and down his arm. Options were limited from this position; kneeling down, one arm held high straining his vessel's shoulder muscles.

The demon sneered at the being trapped below. "How do you think this will end, Castiel? With you and your two friends walking out of here alive? You need to learn when you're beaten, angel."

Out of nowhere, fingers spread and the angel blade dropped. Time slowed; the celestial weapon falling, falling, falling. A left hand extended. Metal met flesh. Castiel expertly caught his blade just above the ground. A flash of movement and the demon stepped back finally separating from his opponent. Absolute shock took over his features as the blade barely missed the front of his tunic with an upward arc.

Cold, angered blue eyes met the seething yellow glare as Castiel stood. Voice low and steady rising the demon's challenge. "Don't count us out just yet."

Again, the angel charged aiming for Azazel's chest. Then the angel was airborne. Pain exploded through his chest from where Azazel had struck tossing him backwards. Only the vague question about the demon's strength passed through his mind before hitting the ground with a grunt. Dead grass and dirt grated against his back, leather armor protecting him as he slid across the ground. Waves of icy coldness washed over Castiel as he came to a stop. A slight tilt of the head revealed how close to the blazing hearth he'd gotten. Holy fire. The hearth was full of holy fire. A seed of fear sprouted as the angel stood and scurried away.

"Cas, look out!"

Dean's warning came too late. The angel had just enough time to sense the prince's vial presence behind before the burning started. What started as a small pin prick in his lower back grew into an exploding star. All thoughts flew from his mind leaving an empty void for the pain to fill. Drawing breath became difficult and vision swam left and right. Grace flared, rushing to the intrusion only to turn sluggish the closer it got.

A single thought, a prayer, fluttered from Cas's pain-riddled mind. _Don't let them die. Please, Father, save him._

* * *

_No no no no. This cannot be happening._

Dean's vision tunneled focused solely on the silver blade protruding from Cas's hip. Bright light seeped from the wound hiding the blood that was undoubtedly there. Helpless, the hunter watched blue eyes glaze over and face go slack.

Azazel pulled away, allowing the angel to fall on battered knees; a blood stained angel blade gripped tight within pale fingers. Twisting the blade, it's wielder observing with glee. "You know," he purred, "you Heavenly folk never bothered retrieving these things after battle. Anyone could've waltzed up and taken one." He frowned as Cas pressed a hand to his abdomen and stayed silent. "I guess killing you before opening the gates wouldn't do me much good. Suppose I'll have to settle for something else."

Yellow eyes snapped to Dean. The hunter forced all fear from his features. Urging his legs to move and stand, he tore his gaze from his friend and refused to look anywhere that wasn't the demon's face. Doing otherwise meant green eyes would find the wounded angel again and any hardened resolve would turn to dust. Azazel stalked forward causing Dean to unsheathe his demon knife on instinct. A sword would be useless in this type of fight.

His opponent only raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're Dean."

Movement drew both of their attention as the younger, disheveled-looking Winchester emerged from the wreckage of the tent. Dean breathed a sigh of relief his brother was unscathed.

The demon smiled. "And you must be Sam. Nice to meet you champ."

Sam studied the scene before him. Eyes widened slightly at the sight of their bleeding friend but was able to keep his composure.

"This has got to be my lucky day," the demon continued. "The angel and two of the most infamous hunters out there at the same time. The honor of killing you two just tickles me silly."

"Feeling's mutual," Dean quipped.

Sam drew his own blade as well ready for any attack. "Killing you means ending the war."

The prince pouted in mock sympathy. "Ah, you pour, naïve humans really believe that?"

"We _know_ that's what would happen."

Demonic lips twisted into a snarl unable to deny the fact. All knew if the current leader of Hell met their end, not only would subordinates be confused on what to do, a power vacuum would disrupt everything. A fight for the throne lasting hundreds of years before a single being could establish dominance long enough for the fight to end. And the war to open Heaven's gate would be abandoned in the chaos.

"Doesn't matter," the demon growled. "You'll both be dead in a few minutes anyways."

Dean sent a look towards his brother quickly flicking his eyes to Azazel. Sam blinked twice saying he understood the silent message. Immediately, the younger charged head on. A shout ripped from his throat as he successfully pulled their enemy's full attention. At the last second, a demon knife swung directly for the demon's head. Dean pushed down the hint of pride and satisfaction when Azazel actually looked surprised by the attack.

Instead, he crept along the perimeter keeping a watchful gaze as yellow eyes danced around. The demon dodged and parried every blow from the very human opponent. Sam was relentless, never slowing enough to allow the demon to strike back. Or the hunter was being toyed with.

Carefully, the elder Winchester made his way to the opposite side of the area. Keeping low, he stepped towards the bleeding angel still kneeling in the dirt. From behind, the heaving of his shoulders and bowed head sent panic rushing down Dean's spine. He gingerly placed a hand on Cas's shoulder, alarm bells screaming even louder when he didn't so much as flinch. The hunter ducked low to get within Cas's line of vision. But blues eyes were screwed tight.

"Cas."

Nothing. The angel's jaw stayed clenched. It took all of Dean's willpower not to look down.

"Cas," he tried again a little more forcefully. "I know it hurts like hell, but you need to talk to me. How bad is it?"

Finally, he cracked both eyes open letting the brilliant color peek through. Dean had been expecting pain to fill them, but to his delightful surprise, they weren't. Instead, they were clear, sharp, completely focused on what was in front of them. And just as quickly, they disappeared once more.

Castiel's voice was a low, rough whisper Dean strained to hear. "Angel blades… are different. They… they damage both the vessel and… and celestial body within." He paused taking a breath. Even speaking seemed draining. "But it's not fatal."

"What can I do?"

"Get him to me."

That's when Dean understood. The Angel of Thursday had survived decades of being hunted by deceiving those around him. Cas was, without a doubt, injured. But less so than he portrayed. The only way for Azazel to turn his back was to make him believe he'd won. His ego blinded him to the possibility of retaliation from a downed opponent.

And that would be his downfall.

The hunter forced the smile from his lips, attempting to keep the appearance of worry just in case. "Stay with me, alright?"

"Dean!"

His head snapped to Sam, heart rate spiking at the panic and desperation in his brother's voice. The demon knife clashed with the angel blade; the sharp ring rising above all else like a city bell during an invasion. Except now the human was on the defensive. Movements had definitely slowed and heavy panting revealed Sam was tiring. Blades locked together, the human struggling against the demonic strength. He wouldn't last much longer alone.

Hoping Azazel was distracted enough not to hear, Dean whispered to the being behind him. "Be ready." Without waiting for a response, he gripped his demon knife tight and straightened his back ready to fight. It was now or never. "Hey Asshat!"

Both sets of eyes glanced towards him. Yellow ones narrowed, sizing up the new threat stalking forward. The demon, with great effort, shoved an exhausted and somewhat dazed Sam onto his back and squared his shoulders to Dean.

"Decided it was time to join, did we?" he mocked.

"Nah, just time for you to die."

As soon as the demon began marching forward, the hunter halted to get into a defensive position. But more importantly, he stood directly between the two oldest beings there. Within seconds, they were face-to-face. Azazel wasted no time and swung his angel blade downward with the intent of plunging it into the man's chest. Dean simply stepped and leaned back as the blade passed by nearly slicing his breastplate in half. Being a celestial weapon, there was little doubt it could.

A feral snarl bled from the demon's lips as he sent blow after blow; each potentially fatal, but none ending in success. Only years of instinctual fighting kept Dean in the land of the living. Expertly dodging most while parrying others, the hunter carefully kept the prince just out of arms reach forcing him to step forward to be able to attack. All the while, the pair ever so slowly shifted closer and closer to the blazing hearth.

Frustration and anger overtook Azazel's expression as his attacks became wilder and messier. Pace increased enough to where everything became a near miss. One mistake would cost the man his life. But still, he did not fight back; the demon knife was never raised to strike, not a single blow went flying Azazel's way.

"Fight back you coward!" the demon growled. "You won't last forever."

That was something Dean was acutely aware of. Even though the fight had been relatively short, his breath was heavy and muscles sore. He'd be in the same boat Sam was a moment ago if things didn't end soon.

But like an answer to a prayer, something lightly pressed into the small of his back. It didn't feel like a hand, but there was no confusion to what, or who, was directly behind. A newfound strength surged throughout the man's entire body and for the first time… Dean's didn't dodge.

Azazel side swiped with a back hand motion as if to slice the human's throat. Dean caught his wrist with his left hand with a painful jolt but held fast and unforgiving. Immediately, he countered with an upward stab towards Azazel's stomach. As expected, the demon used his free hand to also grab onto his enemy's wrist. Azazel squeezed, causing the hunter to nearly drop his weapon, and leaned in barring his teeth. Yellow eyes bore hungerly into him and sulfur found its way into Dean's nose as he held back a gag.

"Did you really think you could beat me with a single blow?" the prince challenged, ego inflating.

Despite the rancid smell, Dean pressed closer as well with fire in his eyes. "No. But he can."

The hunter ducked, released his hold, and side stepped to the right. The sudden motion also forced the grip on Dean's wrist to break. Azazel was already unbalanced so without the human's support he began falling face first. But something stopped him from meeting the ground.

Dean watched as sickly yellow eyes widened at the sight before him; an angered Castiel standing up to great him. The angel caught the falling body wrapping one arm around the torso. The other plunged an angel blade deep into the demon's stomach.

The world seemed to quiet. A sharp intake of breath and the drop of a weapon the only sounds. Interlocked beings just stood there for a moment; angel supporting demon. Castiel's face was mostly hidden from Dean's view by the prince's head. However, he watched as pale lips whispered indecipherable words to Azazel.

Then the angel twisted his blade. Bright, orange light flooded Azazel's body, flickering like the demonic life within. His mouth hung open with a silent scream, wide eyes expressing nothing. The light faded into nothing leaving an empty shell in its wake. Almost somberly, Castiel let the body slide off his blade and drop to the ground.

No one said a word. All eyes were glued on the body, even as Sam joined his brother's side. But it didn't feel like they needed to speak; not this time. Just being alive within each other's company was more than enough. Besides, what does one say after saving the world?


	16. Legend in the Person

**Author's Notes: Wow... we're actually getting close to the end. Things will be wrapping up in the next chapter followed by an epilogue. I'll have more to say for those chapters, but I can't wait to post them all the same.**

**Please fav and follow for update notifications and please review. I want to know what you guys think. Stay safe out there!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Legend in the Person**

Castiel was… numb.

Looking at the body, there was no relief; no joy in defeating the enemy. It was different than pushing emotions away for the sake of survival. They weren't buried. This time it was almost as if everything had been stripped away leaving the angel raw and hollow.

A dull pain from his lower abdomen registered in his mind. Right, he'd been stabbed. Slowly, Cas raised a hand to put pressure on the exit wound only to find someone had beaten him to it. Fingers brushed the warm hand pressing cloth to his hip as brows creased in puzzlement.

Finally, the angel was able to tear his gaze away from the shell at his feet to meet green eyes flooded with worry. The orbs shifted back and forth in search of something but struggled to find.

The inevitable question dripped from Dean's lips like water off a leaf. "You okay, Cas?"

No, he wasn't. He felt as if the slightest breeze would cause his fragile body to crack and crumble. His mind screeched to a halt in an attempt to process what just happened. The angel was frozen in nearly every way imaginable and the only thing he could do was stare.

Yet somehow, by some miracle, the hunter understood. His expression, his whole demeaner, softened just enough to be noticeable. "It's over, Cas. You did it, you won."

Cas blinked once… twice… Cool air rushed into his lungs filling the void inside. Returning emotions threatened to overwhelm and grind him to dust. The angel felt it coming and immediately latched onto the closest living thing; which in this case happened to be Dean. His slightly trembling fingers found a spot where hand and wrist met. It turned out to be the same limb covering his wound. The hunter tried to hide the grimace at Cas's strength.

Blue eyes slipped closed letting the touch ground him to reality; Dean's steady heart beat a gentle reminder they really had survived. Slow and in control, he exhaled and let the last bit of tension vanish from his body. The roaring fire inside calmed enough to be able to pick out everything vying for attention. He acknowledged they were there and allowed them to float away like ash.

A few moments of this and the angel felt tranquil enough the open his eyes. Dean was giving a curious look; the one with pinched brows and parted lips with a question painted on the tongue. Cas resisted the urge the clean away to smudge of dirt decorating the man's chin.

Instead, he locked gazes with him knowing he needed to ease his worry. "I'm okay, Dean."

The hunter traded curious for skeptical. "What about your wound?"

Cas looked down. It didn't feel like celestial energy was seeping through anymore. But the physical hole was definitely still there. Gently, he removed Dean's hand yet kept his grip firm; even shifting to hold palm-to-palm. With his other free hand, after causing his angel blade to disappear, he hovered over the opening. Grace flared under his palm emitting a warm glow. Within seconds, the stab wound closed, not even leaving a scar. Even the torn tunic was repaired.

Normally an angel's vessel would unconsciously be healed in any situation. Even if something was damaged with an angel blade, it just takes longer. Honestly, Cas moved things along to make Dean happy. Cas smirked at him receiving an eyeroll in response.

A clearing of someone's throat drew both of their attentions. Sam was standing a few feet away awkwardly shifting his feet. Yet the two did not separate, they didn't feel the need to.

"So…" the younger started, "what happens now?"

The angel thought for a moment. "Once the absence of Azazel's power is noticed, his forces on Earth will either return to Hell or go into hiding. For a while at least."

Sam huffed with an amused smile. "That's great and all but, what about now? Like right now. We never really discussed what came after."

Dean tensed, eyes going wide. "Bobby, Ellen, the others…"

The bubble surrounding the three popped and the world came rushing in. The smell of something burning assaulted their noses as distant patches of thick smoke disappeared against the night sky. Shouts of elation and horror mixed together in a symphony of war and death. Azazel might've been gone, but the battle wasn't done.

Castiel's stomach churned as an idea formed. Two basic instincts were instilled in every angel since the beginning; follow orders without question and never show Heavenly power to humans. Granted, not asking questions had never been the Angel of Thursday's strength. But the latter was strictly followed especially since sealing the Gates. The Winchesters had become the only exception.

And now he was seriously considering abandoning the rules altogether. What would his siblings think if they were around? Balthazar would've been shocked and Gabriel probably would've laughed. The thought settled him slightly, but it's near impossible to overcome something infused so completely. But Castiel saw no other way without more loss of human life.

Steeling his nerves, the angel released Dean's hand and gave both brothers a pointed look. "Find me when the light fades."

Before they could protest, the celestial leapt into the air too fast for humans to see. He took a moment to take in the battlefield from above. A few fires peppered the Augien Plains. Most of the once tall grass was either trampled flat or burned to nothing make it much easier to see the bodies, living and dead. The hunters appeared to be doing surprisingly well against the hordes of demons. Some used the foliage or flames to hide and regroup; others fought side by side cutting down every black eye in their path. Some were even leading about ten demons on a merry chase into Devil Traps. Yet even high above, Cas could tell fatigue was beginning to be a problem even with hundreds of enemies left.

He hesitated, the last bit of instinct screamed at him to turn back, before shaking his head and dropping to the ground in the center of it all. Putting a small amount of power into his voice to ensure all humans heard, the angel shouted the warning they'd need. "Shut your eyes!"

Hoping the hunters listened, Castiel held out his arms to the side as his chin lifted to the sky. The large amount of celestial energy contained within a human body was suddenly unleashed all at once. The ground rumbled and blazing white light washed over the entire field. Screams of the damned were cut short and the twisted souls were blasted to oblivion.

Gritting his teeth, the angel kept going, pushing and expanding his power to the absolute limit. It wanted to recoil, but he refused to let any demon escape. Using this much power was dangerous especially after remaining dormant for so long. He could practically feel his very life force drain away bit by bit. If angels had souls, his would've been destroyed completely. Still he pushed on until he sensed the last demon fall.

As carefully as possible, Castiel reeled the energy back. It was actually more similar to placing a heavy piece of fragile art on the ground; allowing it to go where it wanted but controlling how it happens. If he didn't resist, all of that energy and power would snap back into his vessel destroying it in the process.

Slowly, but surely, the angel's grace quieted to a low hum and the light faded like it was never there. His knees buckled with a painful jolt as they smacked the ground. A slight ringing in his ears quickly died out as he attempted to regain control of his breathing.

"Give him some space, will ya?"

Castiel looked up to see a ring of hunters backing away. There were mixed expressions being sent his way; awe, confusion, wariness. But all had weapons gripped tight ready to attack the powerful creature if necessary.

A man pushed through his fellow hunters stepping closer to the angel with slight caution. He looked to be on the older side with gray decorating his beard. Although there was little doubt of his effectiveness of using the crossbow hanging at his side. Wise, knowing eyes assessed the kneeling being before shaking his head and extending a hand.

"You must be the Winchester's friend I've heard about," the man said.

It took a moment, but Cas quickly deciphered the man's identity. Taking the offered hand, he allowed himself to be heaved to his feet. He stumbled slightly but remained steady for the most part. "And you must Bobby Singer. Lord Winchester spoke highly of you."

Bobby huffed. "He better. I've helped his idjit sons more times than I can count. Though I suppose it was your turn to help, huh?"

"Exactly how did you do that?" someone asked.

Cas peered around Bobby and locked eyes with a woman with auburn hair. She seemed to be standing almost protectively in front of a much younger blonde woman, most likely her daughter by the looks of it.

"I mean, we're thankful for the save and all," she continued, "but I'm sure all of us would like to know who and what you are."

The angel swallowed. "I, um…"

"Cas!"

Dean's shout silenced everyone's mutters. The crowd parted letting both brothers through without much of a fuss. Marching forward, a small fire of anger burned in the hunter's green eyes. Cas actually stepped back worried a punch was coming his way. But surprise took him when strong arms wrapped around his shoulders instead. He barely reciprocated the hug and see Sam's amused smile before Dean shoved him back slightly. The man was attempting to glare but ended up with an adorable pout.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Castiel leveled him with a look. "I was thinking I had had enough power to save all of the hunters willing to sacrifice their lives so we could kill Azazel."

"Oh," was his eloquent response. The fire snuffed out and shoulders sagged.

Bobby gave a proud, fatherly smile to all three of them. "So you actually did it. That son of a bitch is gone."

The angel nodded. "Yes. The Prince of Hell is dead."

Quiet murmurs spread throughout the group but the woman from before spoke above them. "You still haven't answered my question; what are you?"

Dean stepped protectively between the two. "Come on Ellen."

"I just want the facts, that's all."

"Dean." Cas moved around the hunter to his side and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I… I don't have to hide anymore."

Without waiting for a response, he moved closer to the woman now known as Ellen but stopped when she became defensive. He breathed silencing the warning bells. Hoping his expression was open and kind, he looked directly into Ellen's brown eyes. "My name is Castiel. I'm the last living Angel of the Lord."

Cas wasn't really sure what reaction to expect. Denial was the most logical; hunters tended to not believe something unless they saw proof. Very few living souls had witnessed a display of angelic power so even smiting the demons like he had could be dismissed. And observing the crowd definitely revealed skepticism. Ideas ran through the angel's mind on how to fulfil the strange desire to show his sincerity.

Before he could heal some wounded hunters, Dean stepped forward with a type of poise that gently commanded attention. "Look, I know it's hard to believe, especially after all the crap the war has thrown at us. But if you won't trust him, trust Sam and me. Cas here really is an angel."

More whispers rose into the sky like smoke yet the celestial easily picked them apart.

_"…you buying this…"_

_"…wouldn't lie about something like this…"_

_"…make sense how he was able to save us…"_

_"…guess we weren't alone after all…"_

"Well," Ellen uttered, "the angel thing is a bit much to get my head around. But if the boys trust you that's enough for me."

Relief instantly melted the stress away as Cas shook the woman's offered hand with a quick thanks. Over his long life span, the angel never sought acceptance even from his own kin. However, between Dean, his family, and the hunters currently surrounding him, he found the feeling quite pleasant.

Bobby let out a loud sigh. "Now that that's out of the way, what do we do now?"

Castiel didn't really have an answer.


	17. Love with Immortality

**Author's Notes: First off... writing emotions is hard. Second... AAAHHH! We are actually here at the end of this journey. Out of every story I've done, this is the one I feel most proud of. I want to thank each and every one of you who've followed me this far; especially the frequent commenters. Your words kept me going and always put a smile on my face.**

**There is an epilogue coming soon so keep an eye out for it.**

**Please review! I want to know what you guys think!**

**~quinnarrow**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Love with Immortality**

Dean's heart was racing. The tightness in his chest constricted his lungs as the man tried to take steady deep breaths. The constant _thump thump thump_ filled his ears but wasn't enough to drown out the ever brewing thoughts.

_You're going to lose him before morning_ his mind supplied. He did his best to push it aside.

Trudging feet came to a sudden halt when the figure on the hill's crest came into view. A hazy glow seemed to surround the unmoving body as the setting sun shone down; which Dean found quite appropriate the more he thought about it.

Forcing himself forward, the man noticed Cas's back was to him. A sand-colored tunic draped across completely relaxed shoulders; not a single ounce of tension to be found. Limp arms hung at his sides as still as the rest of him. One might think the angel was made of stone if not for the black hair gently swaying in the breeze. With every step, the hunter felt his own worry lessen as if the mere presence of the celestial being calmed everything nearby. By the time Dean stopped beside Cas, he felt like the angel looked.

The hunter took a moment to study Cas's face. He seemed… at peace.; head slightly upturned to the sky, eyes closed, expression soft and open just basking in the last sun rays of the day. And that's something Dean had never seen the angel be. He remained silent for a while. Doing nothing except staring and memorizing every detail of his angel's profile.

"Hello Dean."

"Hey Cas."

They lapsed into comfortable silence once more. At this point Dean wasn't sure they could be uncomfortable around each other anymore. Honestly, he wanted to just stand there with Cas for the rest of eternity staring down at Thindol Valley. But there was one question that needed answering. "So, how'd it go?"

Cas sighed. "As expected. But I think my viewpoint is now clear."

After arriving at the valley, they found every demon had vanished, abandoning their encampment. It wasn't until the victorious hunters explained what happened to Azazel did others understand where the enemy went. Word quickly spread throughout the different banners and battalions causing an excited buzz to wash over the encampment.

But that wasn't the only news to circulate. Mere hours after being greeted by Lord Winchester, it was easy to recognize the way people changed when Castiel came near, especially those from the Mills Battalion. Everyone moved out of the way like a rampaging bull was barreling towards them. Some avoided looking at the celestial being while others couldn't help but stare. Dean found the looks of fear and embarrassment from those who'd treated Novak so harshly months ago amusing.

For the most part, the pair had stayed at each other's side but that wasn't the case for the past four hours. Lord Winchester had asked the angel if he'd be willing to meet with the other commanders and lords of the kingdom. As much as he wanted to, Dean didn't take part of the three hour long meeting and couldn't find the elusive Cas until now.

"Let me guess," the man continued, "everyone tried to convince you to join their ranks and it took you all that time to tell them no."

"Some even tried to buy my loyalty. Your father was the only one to defend my argument from the beginning."

Dean huffed. "Doesn't surprise me. I bet Commander Mills was a lot nicer to you."

"It was… quite strange."

"What changed their minds?"

Finally, Cas looked to the man beside him. "I told them in all of creation, no angel had ever joined a specific group of humans and I wouldn't be the first. My loyalties are to Heaven and humanity as a whole."

"Can't really argue with that."

On the outside, Dean had the proud smile that Cas stood up for himself. But on the inside the calm had faded. Unease, dread, hysteria all whipping back and forth in a relentless frenzy.

"So what are you gonna do now?"

"I'm not sure. Most assume I'll return to Heaven."

"You'd be in charge of everything upstairs?"

"I suppose." The distant look returned. "But the thing is, I'd been running for so long, convinced I wouldn't survive the war for years, I haven't thought about what came after."

"But you did survive and can do whatever you want now."

"It's not that simple," Cas claimed shaking his head.

"What do you mean?"

"My responsibilities as an angel say my job is to protect Heaven no matter what. But that can mean many things at the moment."

"What does your gut tell you?"

"That I should return to Heaven and unseal the Gates."

The lack of hesitation from Cas unsettled the hunter in ways he wasn't ready to admit. He swallowed hard, careful not to show the utter defeat taking over his entire being. Dean had spent the days of travel from the plains constantly reminding himself that no matter what happened next, he needed to accept Cas's decision. And he was damn sure he wasn't going to say anything about it. But with each passing moment, the resolve was waning. But Dean was anything if not strong willed. He wanted, with everything he was, to tell the angel how he felt. But knowing Cas, that type of confession would only make him feel obligated to stay.

So he startled himself when he mumbled. "Then that's what you should do."

Cas whipped his head around to face the hunter, surprise evident. "You think so?"

"I mean, ultimately it's up to you." Dean's stomach churned and rebelled at the words coming out of his mouth. "You know better than anyone what's best."

The angel returned his attention to the darkening horizon.

"Will you come with me?"

"With you? Where?" The question barely passed his lips before realization hit. "Wait, to Heaven?"

"Yes."

"Is that even possible? A human going to Heaven without, you know, dying?"

Cas tilted his head. "Of course."

The hunter attempted a nonchalant shrug. "Then yeah. I'll go with you."

Pale fingers gently gripped the hunter's shoulder. Foolishly he believed he was ready this time, knowing what to expect. But Dean's stomach stayed on Earth as the rest of him bolted towards Heaven. Nausea set in as something crunched under his boots. Yet the feeling was quickly forgotten, surprise taking hold.

Descriptions of the afterlife typically involved never-changing bright skies and pure white clouds to walk on. But like the mortal world below, stars had already begun peppering the quickly darkening canvas. A full moon smiled down on them as if she knew evil had been defeated. And instead of clouds, the ground was just normal compacted gravel.

The Gates themselves were a sight to behold. Large, gold, and placed within endless gray walls - just like Cas described. The intricate design twisted and curved in impossible ways making it difficult to focus on one thing. A soft glow emanated from the Gates inviting all who came with an open embrace.

Well, almost all.

As impressive as the architecture was, it was not what held the man's attention. Separating them from the Gates, standing as silent as shadows, were hundreds, if not thousands of demons. Black eyes bore into the pair, unflinching and unmoving. Yet Dean felt no fear. Deep down he knew they wouldn't attack. Without a word, Castiel stepped forward, the hunter following faithfully at his side. Like water on rocks, the sea of the damned parted giving them a wide berth. The little bubble protecting the angel and man pushed its way into the center, all eyes still stuck on them.

Cas motioned for Dean to halt as he continued for a few more steps. The angel turned on his heel glaring at every black eye he saw. His voice boomed with power like the hunter had never witnessed before. "Your leader is dead. Leave Heaven and never come back. Fail to do so and you will feel the wrath of the last Angel of the Lord."

Dean observed as a few demons fled straight away. The rest looked extremely uneasy, but absurd stubbornness kept them planted. Noticing this, Castiel's eyes began to glow a brilliant blue, his whole body quickly followed. The intensity became too much for the human and he had to look away and shield his eyes.

A hum of power came and went in an instant. Cautiously, the hunter cracked an eye open. Satisfied Cas's light had died out, Dean looked around to empty grounds; not a single demon remained in Heaven for the first time since the war began. Then he caught sight of the angel.

Castiel looked like the celestial being he was. Polished leather armor, different than the Winchester's fashion, adorned his chest with a silver tunic peeking from underneath. The spark in his blue eyes was something Dean hadn't really seen before. And the immense power glimmering behind them wasn't to be dismissed.

But all the man could do was stare in awe at the two magnificent pure black wings sprouting from Cas's shoulders. They were described as black before but he was absolutely certain no amount of light could penetrate the beautiful darkness of the large feathers. Then the appendages shifted. Flashes of silver drew his attention across the inky surface. It reminded the hunter of watching thunderstorms from his bedroom window at a young age; missing the allure with a blink.

The angel waited patiently for Dean to snap out of his shock, carefully observing the reaction. And like a sudden shift of weather, the angel's whole demeanor changed from one of pure confidence to one of a timid animal. The wings pulled in tight across his back as if to take them from view. Somber eyes cast downwards almost in shame. Quickly, Cas turned away from the hunter to start towards the Gates, but Dean, realizing his error, was faster.

His firm grip found the angel's rough and callused hand latching on with no intention of letting go. The sudden move startled Cas as blue eyes darted between their linked hands and the man's face. Gently, Dean tugged forcing the two to stand face to face. Cas's words from long ago echoed in his mind; _Heaven is considered a place of goodness and light, so those like me were considered odd. I often heard comments behind my back, but I never felt ashamed._ Perhaps it was true back then, but now it seemed those insecurities wormed their way back into the angel's mind.

Dean smiled, ready to put those fears to rest. "They're amazing Cas," he nearly whispered. "Absolutely amazing." With his free hand, he slowly reached out ready to pull back at a moment's notice. "May I…?"

Slight hesitation made the hunter immediately think he crossed some sort of line. Perhaps touching an angel's wings was disrespectful in some way? But before Dean could recoil, Cas silently nodded. The large appendages relaxed away from his shoulders spreading out to either side. Their linked hands released allowing the man to shift to the left getting in line with the inky feathers.

He gave one last look as if asking if the angel was sure and received nothing but a steady gaze in return. Slowly, the gap between feather and flesh disappeared. Gingerly, the tips of human fingers brushed against the celestial form. Dean knew they would be the softest things he'd ever encountered. But the silky texture still took him by surprise. Silver flared to life as the fibers became disturbed under the moonlight.

With tenderness and care, the hand drifted in a downward motion stroking the feathers. Something seemed to release from the angel in the moment. Dean watched as Cas sighed letting his eyes slip close. Any tension held within his vessel's shoulders melted into nothing and the peaceful air from before returned in full.

The comfortable silence continued even as Dean pulled his hand away and the two gazes met. Still no words were uttered as the angel and the human intertwined hands once more as they sauntered closer the Heaven's Gates. With each step, Dean's grip tightened in anticipation of the inevitable parting. If Cas noticed the grief ripping through the man, he gave no indication. Green eyes trailed skywards as the Gates loomed overhead, the intricate designs along the solid wall of gold even more impressive up close. Both beings stood there drinking in the sight.

"I never thought I'd live to see them again," Cas whispered finally breaking the silence.

Dean looked at him, but the angel's eyes were still focused ahead.

"After I fell," he continued, "I used to fill my time imagining what I'd do, what it would be like to come back. I'd be alone. The sole protector of billions of souls." A dark look crossed his face. "Demons will rise again with someone new on the throne. They'll attack the Gates and I won't be able to defend it." Finally, the angel meet the man's stare. "And being on Earth, with you, I finally feel like I belong somewhere."

Dean blinked unsure if he was understanding correctly. Should he dare hope? "Wait, so does that mean…"

Castiel nodded. "Heaven's lasted this long without me. It will last a while longer."

An unbridled grin spread across the human's face. Tears of absolute joy filled his eyes as the grief in his heart was replaced with warmth. He wasn't losing his angel today.

Dean tightened his grip on the hand resting in his. "Let's go home."

And for the first time in many years, since the world believed all hope was lost… Castiel smiled.


	18. Epilogue

**Author's Notes: Here it is. The final addition to one of my favorite stories to write. Thank you all who've followed me through this journey. I couldn't have done it without you 3 :) Enjoy!**

**~ quinnarrow**

* * *

**Epilogue**

Light footfalls echoed throughout the stone halls breaking the eerie silence of night. Dim torches chased away the shadow yet did nothing for the chill. But it wasn't the crisp autumn air nor darkness causing shivers to run down the young man's spine. Instead, his heart hung heavy with sorrow and grief. Day by day, as the weight of it all increased, he found difficulty in focusing on anything else. And when the inevitable message came, he abandoned all hope of doing so. He knew, as most did, the day would come. But tears still threatened to spill at any moment.

The simple wooden door loomed ahead inviting the young man close. Steady steps faltered. A lump lodged in his throat as breaths became shaky at the mere thought of opening the door. He swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to calm his frantic mind. Gently placing a hand on the smooth wood, he paused taking one last moment to believe things were alright. Metal hinges creaked as the door slowly swung open and the young man stepped inside.

It was a simple room; clean and organized. Same gray walls as everywhere else yet the feel was different. Warmth and love filled the air. It was a homey, lived-in space; well-worn furniture, a blazing hearth, an unknown pleasant smell offering nothing but comfort. To the young man, the room was a familiar one. Even after many years of adventures and travel, this was the only place to be called home.

The clearing of someone's throat pulled his attention to the right. Pushed against the wall sat a large bed. Mounds of blankets and furs draped across in a sea of warmth. Lack of movement from beneath caused a halt of feet and a shot of panic to race through his heart. Wide frantic eyes looked to the figure sitting beside the bed.

He looked exactly the same from when the young man was a child. Wild black hair, pale complexion, bright blue eyes. Even with exhaustion written all over his face, Cas still managed a small smile. "Hello Jack."

Jack swallowed trying to turn thoughts into words. "Is he… Am I…"

The angel shook his head. "No, you're not."

Finally, the man felt like he could breathe again. He wasn't too late after all. Forcing himself forward, Jack's gaze locked on the bed once more. The closer he got the more threatening tears became. But when he reached the bed, his body won and traces of water fell down his cheeks.

The hand lightly clasped in Cas's grip was as wrinkled and withered as the man it belonged to. Pure white hair clung to his head sticking out at odd angles. Closed eyes and peaceful expression almost had Jack dismissing the angel's reassurance the man was still with them if not for the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest. Jack wasn't so sure he wanted to see his adoptive father in such a state.

"He held on for you," the angel breathed softly. "Stubborn bastard never does anything he doesn't want."

The young man chuckled wiping away his tears. "And you wonder where I got it from."

The corners of Cas's mouth pulled upwards. He stood and hauled Jack into a tight embrace. "It's good to see you."

"You too."

For a moment, the pair just stood there holding one another neither willing to let go. Although angels could never claim a child of their own, none disputed the bond the two shared. Some might even say it was nearly as strong as the one between the angel and the hunter.

Finally, Cas pulled away and Jack saw the deep sorrow etched in the blue eyes. Yet acceptance was there as well and the young man found it oddly comforting.

The angel sighed. "It's time."

He stepped back to the bed leaning over the old man's face. Stroking the snowy locks back, the angel pressed his lips to his hunter's forehead. A single tear raced down his cheek as he tugged away and spoke into the man's ear. "Dean. Dean it's time to wake up now."

The old man's struggle into consciousness took much longer than it should've. Cas continued to coax Dean awake with soft whispers of encouragement. A low chuckle passed the angel's lips as the man mumbled something about five more minutes. Finally, green peeked through long lashes, the color as brilliant as ever.

A smile spread across the angel's face. "Hello Dean."

"Hey Cas."

"There's someone here to see you." He moved back allowing Jack to take the chair himself. Dean's gaze snapped towards him instantly with a sigh of content.

"Hey kid."

"Hi Dad." He latched onto the hand being held earlier. There was so much, too much, he wanted to say. Too many tales to tell and confessions to make. But the words refused to form. A broken sob burst from his throat as the flood of emotions overwhelmed him. "I'm s…sorry. I… I'm so sorry I wasn't here."

With surprising strength, Dean squeezed his son's hand forcing their eyes to meet. "Jack, listen to me. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Nothing." He took a straining breath. "I gave up my claim to the lordship of the Eastlands to Sam and his family so you could live a life of your own. That's all Cas and I ever wanted for you."

Violent coughs rippled throughout the fragile body. Panic began to take hold once more in Jack, but Cas calmly placed a glowing hand on Dean's forehead. Immediately the coughs subsided and the hunter relaxed into the pillows. Breathing now under control, old eyes recognized fear and worry in wide young ones. As much as he was able, the hunter spread his arms open as an invitation. Without hesitation, Jack placed himself on the side of the bed and gently laid on his father's chest. Warm arms snaked across his back, one hand cupping the back of his head. The hunter softly shushed the crying man offering as much comfort as possible.

"It'll be alright," he whispered into his hair. "It may not seem like it now, but you're strong. And I am so proud of you."

Jack cracked his eyes open to see Cas step forward again and link hands with Dean.

"_We_ are so proud of you."

There they stayed; their odd little family. After what seemed like hours, tears long dry, Jack rose from his place already missing the warmth of his father. Long ago the young man decided he would not be there for the very end and, to his relief, Dean didn't want him there either to witness his death.

Dean looked on understanding his son's intentions. "I'll see you around kid." _I love you._

Jack smiled. "I guess you will." _I love you too._

"But not too soon," the hunter warned. "Or I'll kick your ass."

Some things never change. "Say hi to Sam for me."

"Will do kid."

Reluctantly, Jack turned and walked away. He wasn't sure why he glanced back. But as the cool metal of the door handle seeped into his hand, he couldn't help but smile at the sight. Cas had reclaimed his chair beside the bed. Dean's hand rested in his as both were brought to Cas's lips. They smiled longingly at each other and in that moment, Jack believed his father's words things would be alright.

Many have heard the story. The story of a time when armies of demons stormed across the world. The story of a time when chaos and death threatened all life. The story of a time when green met blue. Children would ask their parents if they lived happily ever after and the parents would just smile and say of course they did.

But it went deeper than that. Much deeper. The bond between them stronger than iron, unbreaking and unyielding. Forged when a heart fearful of love and a heart convinced of its doomed fate collided. Little could compare to the vigor and beauty of when an angel and a hunter fell together.


End file.
